Her Faithful Knight
by Tinuviel Undomiel
Summary: At Graham's funeral, Gold remembers the woman he loved and the story of another man who loved her as well. In Fairy Tale World, Sir Damon is Belle's most loyal knight who pines for her in silence. His love for her will take him on a quest for revenge, where he learns that love can be painful and sadly, unrequited.
1. Part I: The Toiling Knight

Disclaimer: I'm starting my grad school now, no way can I afford Once Upon A Time. But Sir Damon is mine.

A/N: This story was initially going to be a sequel to my story Through Another's Eyes, but when A Land Without Magic aired, it ruined my plans. Instead of focusing on Charming and Rumple's relationship (nope, still no idea why I'm so fascinated by that) I created my own character. I decided to explore the idea of giving Belle a second option, one that made more sense to everyone and yet showing that her only choice really is Rumple. He is her True Love and no one else. I literally started this back in September but this turned out much longer than I intended. I hope you all like it.

NOTE: I fiddled with Maurice's title in FTL. I know he was actually supposed to be a knight, but I thought it would be too confusing with so many knights in this story so I elevated him to lord. I don't think he minds, LOL.

* * *

Her Faithful Knight

Part I: The Toiling Knight

"_It is the mission of each true knight... _

_His duty... nay, his privilege! _

_To dream the impossible dream, _

_To fight the unbeatable foe, _

_To bear with unbearable sorrow _

_To run where the brave dare not go; _

_To right the unrightable wrong._

_To love, pure and chaste, from afar, _

_To try, when your arms are too weary, _

_To reach the unreachable star!"_

—Joe Darion, _Man of La Mancha_

For the first time in known memory there was a funeral in Storybrooke.

No one questioned the oddity of the fact that it was impossible to remember who they had last put in the ground. Nobody even noticed that the convent had struggled to find a room to accommodate the mourners and the casket since there was no funeral parlor in the town. There had been little need of one in the past.

But Mr. Gold saw it all. He knew it had been twenty-eight years since the last death of someone in this town. The dear mayor's father, to be specific. It was his loyal, foolish heart that had been used to enact the curse that bound them all to this place. Except poor Sheriff Graham. Death had freed him.

Gold did not relish in the man's untimely death. He hardly knew the man who had once been the Huntsman but he'd never had anything personal against him. He was Regina's little pet puppy, harmless mostly and hardly useful to him. The truth of the matter was that his passing would benefit him more, upgrading Emma from deputy to sheriff.

Right now the sanctuary was mostly empty. Father Merdock was going over the eulogy, looking much like Merlin in those large reading glasses. Mother Superior and another one of her fairies turned nuns were bringing out candles. They looked at him once and then pointedly ignored him. Gold didn't care in the least. He'd much rather be rid of them completely.

He took a seat in an empty pew just as the doors burst open. Moe French had two flower wreaths on his shoulder and carrying three buckets of flowers yet to be arranged. "I'm sorry I'm late, Mother Superior," he said through panting breaths, "My truck got a flat."

"You mean _my_ truck," Gold couldn't help but say.

French met his gaze, his blue eyes wide with sudden anxiety. "Uh, yes," he said, "Good morning, Mr. Gold."

Gold only gave him a nod of acknowledgement, but his hawkish brown eyes watched as he and that wretched Blue Fairy set up the wreaths and then the flowers. He was carefully laying flowers on the closed casket, making sure it looked perfect for the dead man he barely knew. Gold couldn't stop the memories from coming nor the way his fist tightened on the head of his cane. He laid out flowers for Graham, a man he probably only spoke two words to. He'd never even given his own daughter a funeral.

Those black thoughts stayed with him as the other mourners trickled in. They might have greeted him but he couldn't recall saying anything back. Belle hadn't had any mourners. Her wastrel of a father had dumped her into the cold earth without a word. The people she had sacrificed herself to save had scorned her, the Dark One's whore. It hadn't been true, but since when did truth really matter? Rumplestiltskin had been the only one to grieve over her loss.

No…not just him.

Someone else would have brought her flowers and watered them with his tears. One other person had shared the burden of grief. Someone who hadn't been Gold's ally but not quite even his competition. Someone far more worthy of her than he, the one she'd chosen.

* * *

_Fairy Tale World_

_Seven Years Before The Dark Curse_

Sir Damon knelt before Lord Maurice, ruler of the a small fiefdom in the Marchlands. It was the second time he'd bent a knee in service to a lord, but the words he spoke were no less true.

"I vow to serve thee with my sword, heart and blood. I will relinquish all ties the bound me before and devote myself to you. Your people are my people. Your family is my family. I will uphold this vow until my dying breath. So damn me forever if I break my word."

"May the gods bless you for your service," Lord Maurice said, coming from his throne to offer him his ring. Damon kissed the red jewel as a sign of his fidelity. "Rise, Sir Damon, and welcome."

The other knights in the service knelt as well to greet their new comrade of arms. Sir Damon drew out his sword and held it aloft. "May I fight beside you all with honor and integrity all of my days."

Sir Damon's word was always golden. Ever since he was a toddling young boy swinging a hickory branch to fight a bramble bush he'd decided was a dragon, Damon had longed to be a knight. It was a duty that was sacred and meant only for men of honor and courage. It was a hard, sometimes even lonely life, but one he never regretted.

Once the pleasantries of the ceremony were complete, Lord Maurice instructed Sir Damon to follow him out into the gardens. "I was sorry to hear of Lord Trundle's death," he said.

"It is the way of mortals," Damon said, "When someone passes we mourn and then we move on, it is how the world turns."

"An interesting philosophy."

Both men whirled around at the intrusion. Damon's hand closed on the hilt of his sword, but relaxed when he saw that there was nothing to fear. It was a beautiful young girl who had spoken with rich, sable hair that hung in curls down her back. Her pink gown brought out the rose tint to her skin and a blush to her fair cheeks. Her blue eyes blinked back at them, sparking with a mischief that matched her young age and yet filled with a wisdom that belonged to a much older person.

"But how do you feel about Tomison's theory?" the girl asked, "That the spirit is always in flux, death is but one phase and we are reborn into a new world once we pass on in this one?"

Damon was completely at a loss of what to say, but Lord Maurice let out an adoring laugh. "Forgive my daughter, Sir Damon. You see the gods couldn't grant me a son so they gave me a daughter who has the mind of a scholar and the heart of a warrior."

Lord Maurice wrapped his arms around his child and then looked back at the knight. "Sir Damon, this is my daughter the Lady Belle. Sir Damon is my newest knight."

"A pleasure to meet you, Sir Damon." Lady Belle swept into a fine curtsy while he bowed before her.

"I will endeavor to serve you, my lady," he said.

"Oh dear, I hope not."

He blinked at her. "Pardon me?"

Lady Belle's rose colored lips were set into a playful smirk. "You are a knight, Sir Damon, and that would mean you would do battle for me. I rather hope our province remains in peacetime so you see why I hope your services will never be needed."

Maurice chuckled and shook his head at her affectionately. "You needn't worry about war, my dear girl, there are no prospects for combat as of late."

"Good, I would hate for you to leave me for some dusty battlefield, Papa." She stood on her toes to press a kiss to her father's cheek.

She left them soon after, clutching a leather bound book to her breast as she walked back to the castle. Damon found himself watching her from there after. She was a young girl, perhaps fifteen years old, but she had the pride and character of woman.

_OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo OoOoOoO_

About a month after he had entered the household of Lord Maurice, he was instructed to escort the Lady Belle on her afternoon ride. She was dressed in a deep blue riding habit that made the color in her eyes richer and more vibrant. She smiled when she saw him. "Good afternoon, Sir Damon."

"My lady," he greeted her with a bow.

As was courtesy, he gave her his hand to help her into her saddle before he mounted his own steed.

"Have you ever chased after the wind, Sir Damon?"

"No, my lady," he replied.

Her mischievous smile appeared on her face. "A shame, it would have given you practice."

He hadn't fully grasped her words when she kicked the flanks of her horse and shot out of the stables. He sat in his saddle dumfounded for more moments then he cared to admit before he kicked his horse into a gallop.

Sir Damon wasn't sure if he should be furious with the girl for being so impulsive, but as the chase went on he saw how playful it really was. She would bank her horse through trees, slow down long enough for him to almost reach her before flying off again. All thoughts of anger fled and he found himself smiling through the sport. She was an excellent rider and this was far from the dull chore he had expected it to be.

Eventually, Belle slowed her horse down to a trot when they reached a charming little brook. "You sit well in a saddle," she complimented him.

"Not so pretty a picture as you, my lady," he said.

"You flatter me, Sir Damon."

"I speak nothing but the truth."

He helped her down from her saddle so the horses could rest and drink from the brook. Belle picked up a white daisy and played with its petals, looking much like the young girl she was. Sometimes he had to remind himself that she was barely even a woman.

"Papa told me that you came from the Frontlands."

"Indeed, my lady."

"That is very far away," she said, "Why did you choose to come here?"

"A knight like me must serve a noble lord," Damon explained while she tossed the velvety petals into the water, "I could find no lord in my homelands of such an honorable character, and so I traveled until I found the company of your father."

"You must have seen much of the world then."

He gave her a small grin. "The world is vast, Lady Belle, it would be difficult to see much of it."

"Have you seen the dwarf mines?"

"Yes."

Her blues eyes sparkled with delight and she tossed the plucked flower away. "Tell me about them. Do they really glow with the light of the fairies? Did you see the dwarf nests? Do they really whistle as they break the earth for gems?"

He couldn't help but laugh at her curiosity. "I would hate to spoil them for you, my lady, not if you are so eager to see them yourself."

Her smile faded away. She cast her sky blue eyes to the ground, shaking her head at the daisies. "No, I will never see them. Only men can travel the world."

"I was unaware of this rule," Damon said, "I don't see why you can't travel and venture forth as you will."

"Ladies don't go on adventures," she said, "We women don't get to show our true worth like you lucky men."

"You long for the battlefield and for adventure?" he questioned her.

Belle shrugged. "Perhaps not for battle. But, oh I would love to do something more than marry well and breed children. I want to be remembered for more than my beauty. I want to be something so much more than just a wife and a mother."

Sir Damon stared at her as she bent to grab a clump of daisies, weaving them into a chain. He had never found another lady like her. The wife of Lord Trundle had been meek, hiding mostly behind her embroidery. His daughter had been spoiled and vain, despising even one speck of dust on her rich gowns. She certainly wouldn't have picked flowers in fear of dirtying her nails. Neither lady would have dreamed of adventure. Marriage and children was the only future they wanted, perhaps more jewels as well.

"Why did you leave the Frontlands?" Belle asked.

"Lord Trundle died and he had no son. I was released from my service upon his death."

"Do you miss your home?"

Lord Damon shook his head. "Even if I did, the land is dead now. It can never be restored."

She let the chain of daisies dangle in her hands as she met his gaze with a quizzical frown. "How is that possible?"

"It was done by the being called Rumplestiltskin."

That wild spark of curiosity blazed with blue fire in her eyes again. "The Dark One? You saw him?"

Damon nodded. "Once. Lord Trundle's land was in a terrible drought and nothing would grow. He called for Rumplestiltskin and who agreed to let the land be healthy and strong just as it's master was. In exchange, he was given a bottle of water from the wishing well. Powerful magic was woven into that well, the power to grant any wish."

Belle gazed at him with interest. "What happened?"

"Rumplestiltskin kept his word. The land was healthy and strong, but only as long as the lord was. When he took ill, the land became sickly and the crops all died. When Lord Trundle passed away, the once fertile land became worthless dust."

Belle's eyes were large, her pretty mouth had fallen open at the conclusion of the tale. "What powerful magic he must wield."

"Powerful evil," Damon corrected her, "A wise man would never call upon his aid. That beast is far too devious to be trifled with."

"Is he as fierce as they say?" Belle asked.

Damon recalled the monster who had walked into the Trundle court, dressed in leathers and flashing magic from his fingers. He didn't seem as frightening as other, larger and grander beasts, but that was to his advantage. One could almost believe the stories about him were false. They never were.

"It is best not to talk about him," Sir Damon said, "We wouldn't want to invite him to join us."

Belle didn't agree right away, but eventually she did nod her head. "I suppose not."

_OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo OoOoOoO_

Sir Damon's escort became a weekly event. He didn't intend for that to happen, but he found he enjoyed their conversations during the ride. She would ask about the places he'd seen while she would tell him about all of the books she'd read. Sometimes she would even bring a book with her and read to him. Damon had never had much interest in books and stories before, but listening to her voice as she talked about gallant heroes, daring ladies and monsters not even he would have the courage to face, it was a pleasure he had never realized he had wanted.

Belle quickly became his favorite person at Lord Maurice's court. Not only was she charming and intelligent, but also kind to everyone she met. No creature was overlooked by her, literally. He learned this when she came upon a mangy, evil-tempered cat. The little beast had muddy yellow fur, only half of one ear and a crooked tail. She had found him being abused by some immature village boys and promptly took the cat in. Within a few weeks, his coat gleamed from being brushed and his cuts were all healed. He was still vicious to everyone he met, except for Belle who he happily purred and rubbed his soft body against whenever he could. She named him Sunflower though his temper never matched his name.

Sir Damon would have thought this kindness would have extended only to helpless creatures, but then she bought a terrible painting from a suffering artist. It was a hideous mess of paint, the color was far too bright and didn't match the landscape properly. The meadow it depicted was blue, the sky purple, the trees a rainbow of odd, sloppy colors. Damon had thought she'd purchased it only out of kindness, but she didn't curse it to the fire or hide it in the dregs of the castle. Not Belle. She displayed it proudly in her room, saying the artist had obviously captured the feel of the landscape instead of the look.

Lady Belle was definitely not like other women of her station. She would work in the kitchens with the staff, play ball with the village children and read every book in the library twice over. She also had the rare gift of loving the things the no one else could.

It was when she was seventeen that Sir Damon had his epiphany.

Lord Maurice had inducted a new knight to his court, a Sir Stephen. He was young with blond hair and bright green eyes. He cut a fine figure in his armor, something every lady noticed, including Belle. Damon despised how she would stare at Sir Stephen, laugh at his pathetic jokes and accept his hand for dancing during feasts. He begrudged Stephen's youth and charm, therefore being extra brutal on him during practice rounds in the fencing ring.

It was when Damon and Belle had returned from riding that they saw Stephen shouting at a new squire.

"This was my best pair of boots and you ruined them!"

"I-I-I'm s-sorry," the boy stammered out, staring at the ground.

"Your apologies won't repair leather!" Stephen hurled the stained boots to the ground. "You sniveling rodent, can you do nothing right?" He then raised his hand and boxed the boy's ears.

The child cried out, clutching his sore ear in one hand. Stephen wasn't done. He grabbed the boy by his tunic and hurled him off of the ground.

"Sir Stephen, you put that child down immediately!"

Both the boy and Stephen looked over at Belle who was perched regally on her horse. Damon saw that her blue eyes were flashing with fury, her cheeks stained pink with heat. It was a rare sight to see her so enraged.

"His insolence deserves to be punished," Stephen said.

"You do as your lady commands," Damon instructed him.

Stephen dropped the boy who fell onto his back in the mud. Belle leapt from her horse without Damon's assistance and ran to his side. "Are you all right?" she asked him, stroking his hair.

"Yes, Belle."

Stephen kicked the boy in the leg. "Address her as 'my lady' you brat!"

"Sir Stephen, leave this place immediately," Belle ordered him.

Stephen gawked at her. "My lady, the boy needed to be put in his place."

"I do not condone brutality on children. You may return to the barracks and wait for my father, don't doubt for a minute that he won't be informed."

Despite being on her knees in mud and with her hair windblown from riding across the Marchland plains, Belle had the voice and rigid back of a fierce general. Sir Stephen new better than to cross her further.

Belle used her handkerchief to clear the mud off the boy's face before sending him off to the kitchens for a sweet. Damon was certain that for now on the child would be giving her lovesick glances. Meanwhile he could see that Belle's infatuation with Stephen had withered and died.

"Oh that horrid man!" she exclaimed as they led their horses to the stables, "He may have the charm of a fox but the mind of a mule. I hope my father casts him out."

Damon shook his head. "He'll probably give him some unsavory duties and a stern warning."

"Yes," Belle agreed with a sigh, "But I will never speak to him again, you can count on that."

"Sir Stephen is no different from most men. He sees the people below him as creatures meant to serve him and if they fail then they can be squashed."

Belle handed her reins to one of the stable boy and then whirled around to face Damon. "You're not like that."

"I've seen enough to know that what is down in the dust one day can be risen to the sky the next."

Belle nodded and smiled. "Yes, you are wise and good, qualities rare and surely found in only the best of knights. You are a treasure to my father's court."

"No, my lady, the treasure is you."

She beamed back at him and then stepped forward. He felt his heart stop beating when she stood on her toes to reach his cheek with her lips. It was just a simple brush of her soft lips against his stubbled skin, hardly more than a whisper of a kiss. But it made his heart clench once before leaping into a rhythm he hadn't thought possible.

She sat back on her heels and smiled at him. "You are a true friend, Damon. I'm so lucky to have you."

Belle wandered off to the castle while Damon remained rooted to the stable floor. He stared at the space she had occupied, replaying the moment over and over again in his mind. His fingers brushed the place where her lips had touched his face. His skin felt branded by her kiss.

It was then that Sir Damon realized he was in love with Belle.

_OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo OoOoOoO_

He had never been in love before, despite the fact that women had not been scarce in his life. He'd always focused on his duties as a knight, never thinking about taking a wife and having a family. He wanted to serve his lord and that was all.

Now he knew what those blithering poems were talking about.

Damon loved to hear her speak, hear her sing, watch her dance. He even loved watching her read under the willow tree in the garden. Just seeing her was a joy he never thought possible. She was kind, intelligent, charming, witty.

And entirely above him.

She was a noble lady, bound to marry and belong to a man of her station. Damon was a cobbler's son turned knight. She was young and beautiful, not the sort of woman who belonged on the arm of a lowly knight.

But he couldn't stop dreaming of that possibility. He imagined her gazing at him with love in her blue eyes instead of a friendship. He could see her opening her arms so he could sweep her into a passionate embrace. He imagined her roaming the meadows with their children. But these were only fantasies. He knew they could never come true.

Belle never treated him as anything more than a friend. Oh she laughed and teased him, but never did her eyes sparkled with tenderness when he helped her from her horse or when he passed her in the corridors of the castle. He knew he was dear to her, but not in the way she was to him.

Sometimes he did find sparks of hope that she would come to love him. When she presented him with a book, he was certain she must be trying to say something. But the book was Tomison's _A Cycle of Life and Death_.

"I thought a knight who has a philosophy should study some," she had teased. He thanked her for the book and flipped through it a bit, but he cared little for books. The true gift was one she had not intended for him to have.

Nestled inside the pages of the book was an intricate braid of deep blue, green, purple and sky blue threads. When he lifted it to his nose he could smell Belle's rose perfume and imagine her reading the book in candlelight, her knees tucked up to her chest while she was surrounded by silk covered pillows. He kept the bookmark with him at all times, fingering it sometimes as she read to him by the brook.

_OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo OoOoOoO_

Belle was nineteen when she came flying from the castle with her skirts hiked up to her knees. She didn't even notice Damon as she blew by him, but he heard a sob escape from her lips. He ran after her through the gardens, past the courtyard and to the chapel. Belle rarely ever came there because she despised the clerics. She thought them too stodgy and out to find evil in everything where she preferred logic.

She didn't run into the sanctuary, but past the building where the cemetery was kept. She stopped in front of her mother's grave. Her shoulders were shaking with her sobs as she fell to her knees in the soft grass.

"Belle?" Damon said her name softly so he wouldn't startle her.

"Damon," she said his name in a croak, "It's happened!"

"What has, my lady?"

"I'm b-b-betrothed!"

He actually felt his heart crack inside his chest. He knew it would happen eventually. Belle was beautiful and already past the early marriageable age. He was actually surprised that Maurice had waited this long to choose a suitor, though he supposed it was simply because he hadn't been willing to give her up yet.

"To who?" he asked. He already hated the man.

"Sir Gaston!" She said the name like it was poison. "It's not fair! The ogres haven't come, not yet, I don't see why I should marry him."

The threat of the ogres was more dangerous than she knew, Damon had been included on the War Council a week ago. She had no idea just how close they were coming. No wonder Maurice had chosen Sir Gaston, the son of the Duke. They would be gaining larger armies now and Belle would have a safe place to retreat to if the war should reach their fiefdom.

"Sir Gaston is a noble man." Damon had only met the man once and that was all he could say of him. He had noble blood, but lacked any character beyond that.

Belle, wise and clever Belle, had seen that as well. "But he's so rude and conceited."

"He's handsome," Damon said, hating himself for having to convince her to be happy with another man.

"What's worse is he knows it. I can't stand him!" She shook her head furiously. "Oh I would much rather marry Rumplestiltskin than Gaston."

Damon smiled at that. "I doubt that monster could make you happy."

"I know Gaston won't."

She stared at her mother's headstone, running her hands across the carvings of two lovebirds. He knew she was thinking of her parent's marriage who had the fortune of actually loving one another. It was a shame that such a thing was rare. Oh but she so deserved that gift. She should be loved and cherished by her husband, just like he would for her if she was his wife.

"I'm sorry, Belle," he said gently, "I wish there was something I could do."

She leapt to her feet in a whirlwind of motion, clasping her hands on his arm in a near bruising grip. "Take me away from here."

He blinked back at her. "What?"

"Please!" she begged, "I don't want to be a duchess, I want to see the world and have adventures. We can do it together. We'll just leave here and see all of the places I've read about. I know you'll protect me from any harm. You're my dearest friend, Damon, won't you help me?"

He felt hope flourish in his heart at his words. Yes! He could do that. He could scoop her up and place her on his horse. They would ride out of here together. He would show her the dwarf mines that gleamed almost as brightly as her eyes. They could swim in the oceans and dive for pearls so she could make a necklace with them. They could chase the unicorns in the Enchanted Forest, catch one and ask a wish from it. They could see the endless desert of Agrabah, find treasure in the Gnome Lands, live out a perfect life of adventure together in love.

Except he was a knight. She was a lady. They weren't meant to be.

He had sworn an oath to Lord Maurice. If he broke his word then his honor would forever be tarnished. And Belle, as much as she deserved adventure, she had a duty to her people. If they suffered from the ogres because of her then she would never forgive herself.

Even if none of that mattered. If he could be selfish and do everything that she had asked of him it would be wrong. "My dearest friend," she had said not "my dearest love". She didn't love him.

Damon couldn't help but cup her cheek with his hand. He let out his breath in a sigh, shaking his head. "You know we can't, my lady. Your marriage will help your people, isn't that what you want?"

"Yes," she admitted, "But I want to be happy too."

"You can be," he said, "Sir Gaston may not be as bad as you think. He will love you, I'm sure of it." No one could ever resist Belle. "You must give him a chance."

Belle ducked her head as a tear fell from her eye and rolled down the slope of her cheek. "You're right," she said, "I have to do what is right for my people."

She stepped away from him, forcing him to drop the hand that had held her lovely face. She hugged herself, her steps not as light as they normally were. She stopped just a few feet from him. "It would have been a great adventure, though."

Damon nodded, just once. He knew full well that he would be plagued with dreams forever of the things he could have shown her. She would never know his pain. He would hope that she would grow to love Gaston for her sake, but he knew that if she did then he would have no reason left to live.

_OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo OoOoOoO_

Despite the betrothal between Gaston and Belle, the ogres pushed on towards the fiefdom. Two months after her twentieth birthday, they ravaged the province next to theirs. It was then that they knew they had no choice but to go to war.

Lord Maurice readied his soldiers, but was too old to actually go to the battlefield with them. Sir Gaston was young and strong but far too important to see battle either. Damon hated Belle's fiancé, far more than he had predicted. Not only was he shallow and foolish, but he enjoyed strutting around with his sword though he suspected the blade was a virgin, never tasting blood. He had been knighted by his father but the boy knew nothing of battle and honor. He just liked how the sword hung by his side, especially with Belle at his arm.

Belle was always courteous to her betrothed, dancing with him and smiling at all the right occasions. But Damon had spent years watching every moment of her when he could. He had seen how when Gaston's attention was diverted, her smile would fade and the bright gleam to her eyes would dim. He was a simple fool, crowing on and on about her beauty and virtue without seeing the strong, vibrant woman beneath it all.

Despite her patience and her faithful kindness to her ridiculous fiancé, Belle did not love him. Damon found some odd comfort in that. Soon she would be married, have children, become a duchess and move far away from him, but her heart was still open. One day, perhaps she could love him too.

He knew it was selfish and wrong to desire such a thing. Even if Belle did come to love him she was still bound to Gaston. She would never dishonor her virtue so their love would never be truly known, but always apart. It would be a painful, terrible love, but there would be some joy in the torment. He knew it was worse to bear the burden of an unrequited love.

Damon hated himself for wishing such a thing, but he continued search for signs from Belle that she might have feelings for him. The braided bookmark was always tucked safely into his tunic, just above his heart, until he could find the courage to tell her the truth.

With the war now before them, Damon faced the possibility that he would never get that chance. He had wrestled with telling her for the weeks after he learned he was to be deployed, but he found that the right words eluded him. It was probably for the best. If he were to die he would not want her to feel the burden of his own pain. He could continue to love her from afar if it would spare her.

Gaston was going with them as well, a fact Damon wasn't sure he wanted or abhorred. The young knight—if he could be called that—only knew battle from the pages of a book, one he'd probably only read once. Yet, there was the possibility that Belle could be freed from her betrothal thanks to the ogres. No good knight ever wished the death of a comrade, even if they were repellant, so Damon forced himself to not picture that fantasy.

Lord Maurice's entire court was there to bid the knights goodbye and pray for their safe returned. Damon reverted his eyes when Belle did her duty and placed a peck upon her fiancé's lips. "Do not fear, my lady," Gaston said, "I will return to marry you and with the head of the Ogre King to mount on the wall of our castle."

Belle smiled, but her eyes showed no interest in such a wedding gift. "I will count the days until your return."

Damon would too, if only so he could know how long until his love for her would remain pure. Once she was married it would crush him.

During her father's speech, he saw Belle's eyes flicker to him and smile. Maybe it was just his hopelessly lovesick mind, but he thought he saw the glimmer of sad tears in those bright blue depths.

He didn't think he would get to tell her goodbye in person, but Belle had always managed to surprise him. Damon was in the stables, saddling up his horse, when he heard Belle call out his name. His heart leapt at the sound of her voice.

None of his motions betrayed his elation as he turned towards her. "My lady," he said with a bow.

Belle didn't stand on ceremony with him. She stepped forward and embraced him with all the warmth and kindness that could melt even the icy heart of Rumplestiltskin. He could smell her perfume, feel the soft skin of her cheek against his neck. If he were to die now then it would be a beautiful end.

"I'm going to miss you, Damon," she said in a shaky voice. More than ever he wanted to hold her tight and never let her go.

It was her who pulled away first. He hated the loss, but saw that it wasn't his imagination. Her eyes were glassy as they blinked back at him. "Promise me you'll come back."

It wasn't a promise he was supposed to make. Ogres were deadly, unreasonable creatures. They devastated lands, slaughtered men and women and showed no remorse towards their destructive actions. This war could very well spell out his doom.

The woman he loved was begging him to come back to her. That was all that mattered.

"I promise."

_OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo OoOoOoO_

A good knight never longed for war but was always prepared for it. Sir Damon lived by that logic so when he first stepped on the battlefield he knew exactly what to expect.

Ogres didn't fight like men because they weren't men. They hurled heavy boulders, stomped through forests to skewer soldiers with logs and pulled apart their captives one limb at a time. Honor and conduct had no part in life for them. Damon had battled with ogres before. Arrows were pointless unless tipped with flame that could burn through their thick hide, and even that wasn't a guarantee. Swords did the most damage if one could get close.

Men and beasts died, more men than beasts.

Sir Stephen died on the second day. Even Damon mourned him just a little, such was the way when a rival fell on the battlefield. But that just urged Damon to fight harder. He had to keep his promise to Belle.

Gaston spoke gallantly every night before he retired to his cozy little tent. In the mornings he would ride his black horse to the field and promptly stay in the back with the other nobles. Damon knew that was the way of war, but it did rankle him that an untrained man was pretending to be a general. It was a relief that two months into the war he was forced to return on his father's orders, though it meant he was also returning to Belle. Damon knew she would see that his armor was just as shiny and pristine as the day he'd left, completely unsullied by blood.

Despite the courage of the men, the ogres continued to gain ground day after day. Five months after he had left the court, Sir Damon and what remained of the army were stationed at Avonlea. The town was just thirty miles south of Maurice's castle. If the town fell then the ogres would advance upon them.

Belle would not be left to die a merciless death at the hands of the ogres. Damon would never let that happen.

The small army struggled to keep the ogres from invading the town. The citizens who hadn't fled already were marshaled in their cellars or stationed at the front of their homes with makeshift weapons for one final stand.

The one blissfully kind thing about battle was that all other thoughts evaporated. Damon couldn't think about Belle and his fear for her safety if he failed. When battling the massive, grey beasts he could only focus on his sword finding purchase in the weak spots of their flesh. Each night he fell asleep covered in black blood, too exhausted for his mind to conjure up the usual nightmares.

He was still immersed in the welcome blackness of a dreamless sleep when a young squire nearly tripped over the cracked ground, crying out his name. "The ogres are marshaling in mass on the south side of the town! The walls can't hold much longer!"

Which is how Sir Damon found himself gathering what was left of the Calvary and riding out to fight. Even from a distance he could see they were drastically outnumbered. He knew their primary goal was to defeat them but the second plan seemed more logical: distract the ogres so they can evacuate the remaining townspeople. There was no point in pretending they could win this battle. Many would die.

Damon reached beneath his breastplate to pull out the tattered braid of threads. He tried pressing it to his nose to see if Belle's scent still lingered, but the stench of ogres was just too strong. Instead he gently kissed the threads and stuffed them back over his heart. He'd made a promise. He hoped she would forgive him if he failed to keep it.

He sent one of the squires back with specific instructions to get everyone out of Avonlea. Then he turned his horse around so he could look his comrades in the eye. "Men, this may yet be our final hour, but it will be a glorious end. We will show these ogres that we fight with honor and integrity, qualities they will never possess. They will not win this war if we all stick together. Now are you with me?"

"Aye!" all of the men shouted at once.

Sir Damon held up his sword and pointed it towards the ogre horde. "To death and glory!"

"Death and glory!"

The thunder of a hundred hooves worked to catch the ogres' attention, turning them away from their task of hurling boulders at the cracking walls. Damon charged ahead, slashing his sword at the soft skin of one ogres' neck.

The ogres bellowed and roared as they charged at their attacker. Some threw boulders, others swung clubs while some just body slammed into the horses. Damon swiped at the ogres, canting his horse left and right around the rolling boulders and grunting beasts. Horses screamed in pain, men shouted and ogres howled.

It was the crashing of the walls that undid it all.

The stone walls had been battered so much that the foundation had cracked. The strain of holding itself up was just too much. Damon's instinct to look and see what had happened was too strong to resist. The wreckage of broken stone, a wall that had stood for three hundred years, was proof that this battle was truly lost. Perhaps even the war. How long would the walls of Maurice's castle stand? He could already see them toppling, hear the shouts of the dying, see Belle's broken body lying amongst the wreckage.

He failed to see the club swinging towards him.

It struck his horse, killing the poor animal instantly. It didn't even have time to let out a cry of pain. The ogre wasn't finished, actually striking Damon with its mighty fist as he fell out of his saddle.

Pain. All he could feel was pain. He didn't even feel himself hit the ground. His vision was blurred in one eye and the other had something warm blinding it. Blood, he soon realized.

The sky. Belle's eyes matched the sky. He could see their vibrant blue and that was all. It wasn't a terrible final image. His arm was on fire but he didn't care. Damon reached beneath his broken armor and curled his torn fingers around Belle's bookmark. "I'm sorry, Belle," he whispered to the sky.

He was going to die without ever seeing her again. His last thoughts before darkness took him was a plea to any of the gods that his life be the price for hers. _Let her live,_ he begged, _I accept the cost, just let her live._

_OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo OoOoOoO_

It wasn't fields of endless green and buttercups that Sir Damon saw when he next opened his eyes. The white rivers of purity and golden sky painted by the gods was no where to be found. Instead he could see a tattered, green tent with streams of sunlight falling through the holes. He blinked and lifted one hand to shield his eyes, stunned to feel the stiffening ache that accompanied his movement.

He was alive.

His other hand was curled around something soft, woven and with frayed ends. Belle's bookmark. He'd actually managed to keep his promise to her.

How?

Damon let out a groan as he sat up. His whole body was sore and stiff from having been immobile for so long. It hurt to do anything, even breath, but he was whole and that was all that mattered.

He tucked Belle's threads into his tunic and slowly walked out of the tent. They were still on the battlefield on the outskirts of Avonlea. Or what had been Avonlea.

The town was mostly a pile of rubble. He could make out the arch that had led into the town and a few walls from some of now unidentifiable buildings, but little else remained. Men and women picked through the wreckage to find belongings or anything of value. The disaster wasn't surprising in the wake of the ogres. What was shocking was that the creatures were gone.

"Sir Damon, it's good to see you on your feet again."

Damon bit back a grunt of pain as he turned around to see his comrade, Sir Rupert. His armor was scratched and blackened and he had a bandage tied around his head. Judging from the location he guessed that he'd lost an ear.

"How long was I unconscious?"

"Three days."

Damon blinked in surprise. "The ogres left after only three days? Surely they would have caused more destruction."

Rupert shook his head. "They're gone, Damon."

"Where to?"

"We…we don't know."

Damon frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

"The ogres, they were destroying the town," Rupert explained, "We tried to stop them, but we were completely outnumbered. Then…they just vanished."

Damon stared at the destruction, picturing the scenario Rupert had just described. The vicious, mindless grey monster pulling apart the city brick by brick and then just ceasing to exist. There was only one explanation: magic. The question was, was it Light or Dark?

His guts churned at the idea that someone dark was involved. What price would the end of a war cost?

"Sir Damon? Are you ill?"

"Gather those who are able, station some here to help the townspeople. The rest of us ride to Lord Maurice's castle immediately."

He could feel it down to his bones that the magic used here wasn't the good kind. Something terrible had happened and now his first priority was to make sure Belle was all right.

The ride was painful and his worn body protested every mile of the journey. But Sir Damon never breathed out a word of complaint. He was tense and jittery every time they had to stop and rest the horses. He was afraid, for the first time he was afraid that something horrible had happened. His life didn't matter. His honor and integrity were pointless. He was afraid for something that he'd never had to fear for before: his heart.

Lord Maurice's castle was completely intact. The town was whole and still bustling with people. Men, women and children watched them as the rode through the cobbled streets. They didn't cry out in joy as was expected for returning troops. No, the town seemed to be in some kind of mourning. It was a familiar sight.

Lord Trundle's death had left a similar pallor on his people. Had Maurice paid the price for the war? Belle, she would be devastated.

Damon left his horse in the stable and ran into the castle as quickly as his pained gait would take him. It was obvious that they had prepared for an assault. Windows were boarded up by using most of the furniture in the castle. The halls were normally filled with servants and people seeking help from Lord Maurice, but now they echoed with silence.

"Belle!" he called out for her. She needed him. He may not have her heart, but she had told him many times that he was her dearest friend. And he needed to see her to untie the knot that now served as his insides.

"Belle!" He threw open the doors to Maurice's war room. It was where they had spent a great deal of time before Damon had left for battle. Even Belle would sit beside her father and offer her opinion. Surely it is where they would have sought refuge had they feared the ogres were at their doorstep.

The room wasn't empty. Sir Evan was there, consulting a large map with Sir Gaston. Both men looked up the minute the doors open, drawing their swords from their scabbard. Yes, something had happened.

To Damon's surprise and relief, Lord Maurice was sitting on his throne. "My lord, you're alive!"

His joy only lasted two heartbeats. Maurice seemed to have age immensely. His normally jovial and kind face was heavily lined. The blue eyes he shared with his daughter were red rimmed. "Sir Damon," he said solemnly, "It's good to see you. We feared the worst when we were told of Avonlea."

Damon nodded. "It was close, but we had a miracle. The ogres vanished."

Maurice looked over at Gaston. The look that past between them tightened the knot inside of him. "He kept his word."

"Who did?" Damon was afraid to ask. "Where is Belle? Is she well?"

"We…I don't…" Maurice couldn't finish. He buried his face into his hands and started to weep. No, he didn't start, he was continuing.

It was Sir Evan who spoke for his lord. "She is gone."

Damon felt his heart sink down to his boots. "Gone? How?"

"Taken," Gaston said, "By that miscreant Rumplestiltskin."

The name had the power to freeze the blood inside of Damon's veins. The magic that had ended the war had come from the darkest being in all of the world. And his magic always came with a terrible price.

"Why?" he asked, his broken heart filling his words with rage, "Why would you call upon him? You know how evil he is."

"It was Belle," Maurice explained. He didn't even blink at the way Damon had overstepped his bounds. He was already mourning his lost daughter. "It was her idea. She thought that by promising him gold he would accept the cost and help us. But he refused."

"He wanted her from the beginning," Gaston hissed, "It was all a plan. I don't care what he says, he can't possibly want her just as his caretaker. He'll abuse her in the worst way possible."

Even Sir Damon feared he was correct.

"We tried to stop her," Maurice continued, "I begged her, but she agreed to the deal to save our lives. There was nothing we could do."

Damon couldn't blame him. He was right, once Rumplestiltskin wanted something there was no way to stop him from getting it.

But why Belle? Why not some hearty peasant girl, perhaps not as lovely or educated, but far more capable for his needs?

Because Belle was precious and rare. He didn't want her to be his caretaker. She was his prize, something he could admire and crow about how he'd managed to acquire. It wasn't the sort of life Belle could ever be happy with. Only the gods knew what Rumplestiltskin did with his possessions. Did he put them on some lonely shelf to stare at and be utterly forgotten? When in a rage, did he take whatever his vicious clawed hands could grab and smash it into bits? Perhaps both. Where did Belle fit in? Was she something to be admired or something to be broken?

"You needn't worry, Lord Maurice," Gaston said, "I will rescue your daughter from that monster."

"How? You don't even know where his lair is," Damon pointed out. This foolish puppy couldn't rescue Belle, not from something like Rumplestiltskin. He'd only stood outside of battle. He knew nothing about slaying monsters.

"And you do?"

"Yes."

Maurice frowned at him and finally found the strength to stand up from his throne. "You do?"

Damon nodded. "When Lord Trundle realized what Rumplestiltskin had cursed him with, he took several of us with him to the Dark Castle to beg for another deal. He was refused."

"Where is the castle?" Gaston demanded.

Damon pointed to a spot nestled in West Mountains. "His castle is at the top of the Black Peak."

"Excellent," Gaston said, "We'll gather our forces and you will lead us there. We ride out tomorrow."

Damon almost let him get away with that. Sure his bones were aching, he was slightly dizzy from the ride and he still hadn't recovered from only catching the occasional hour or so of sleep on the battlefield. But Belle was in trouble. He would gladly walk to the ends of the earth to save her.

But he had to think of the men. They were still wounded and their numbers were few. Gaston was hearty and strong, but he was the only man there who was.

"We can't," he said reluctantly, "Our forces are still weak from the battle."

"Then I will go alone."

Damon shook his head. The boy was either brave or stupid…definitely stupid. "The West Mountains are in the north. It is winter there. You would never make a mile up those mountains before you froze to death."

He stared at the spot on the map where Belle now was. She was in that frozen place, perhaps freezing to death herself. Had the beast provided her any comforts? "We have no choice but to wait until spring. We would never survive the journey otherwise."

"But Belle…" Maurice started to say.

"She'll be safe," Damon lied since he had no other choice, "He may be a beast, but Rumplestiltskin has always kept his word. Come spring, we'll go to the Dark Castle and get her back."

_OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo OoOoOoO_

It was the longest four months of his life.

Damon barely slept, hardly ate. At night he just clutched Belle's threads in both of his hands and prayed fervently that she was all right. He tried not to imagine what the Dark One could be doing to her, but his nightmares filled in those gaps. He imagined her screams, could hear Rumplestiltskin's merciless cackles, see the way she walked through the castle as a pale and listless ghost. It always ended with her staring out the window, seeing the snow covered mountains and dreaming of rescue but believing it would never come with each passing day. He hated to leave her there, hated himself most of all for having to put aside his heart in order to do what was right.

And then the spring finally came.

Gaston had spent the entire winter polishing his sword. Now he held it aloft, swearing he would stain it with Rumplestiltskin's blood. Damon was too heartsick to even bother setting the boy straight.

Lord Maurice wanted to send what remained of his army with them, but Damon convinced him that a large force was pointless. The men had to protect the province first of all. Besides, Rumplestiltskin had magicked away an entire ogre army, he would gladly do the same for them.

So it was to be Gaston and Damon who would ride out to save Belle from the beast.

The only problem was that Gaston didn't have an idea of what he was facing. "He wasn't so fierce as they make him out to believe," he said, "He trembled at the sight of my sword."

Damon rolled his eyes as he readied his saddle. Rumplestiltksin hadn't batted an eye when he'd faced down Lord Trundle and his twelve men, had actually laughed at the sight before transforming all of their blades into vipers with just a snap of his fingers.

"I have it all planned out," Gaston said. Damon couldn't wait to hear this. "We'll ride up to the castle and knock on the door. When Rumplestiltskin appears, I'll thrust my sword under his chin and say," He cleared his throat and deepened his voice, "_I _am _Sir_ Gaston, and you, _beast_, have taken _my_ betrothed, the most perfect Lady Belle. Release her to me now or suffer the dire consequences."

Belle would have found that funny, but since she was being held captive Damon rarely found humor in anything. "How gallant," he said dryly, "If you survive, I'll be sure to commend your bravery."

"How dare you say such to me!"

"I dare because you are a fool if you think a plain sword will defeat Rumplestiltskin," Damon said.

"Then how do you propose we rescue Belle?" Gaston asked, "Would you make another deal with that monster?"

"No." Damon knew that deals with Rumplestiltskin were never a good idea. He also knew that bows must be fought with bows, sword with sword and magic with magic. "We must get help from magic," Damon said, "It's the only way."

"So we don't ride for the Dark Castle?"

"Not yet."

Gaston stared down at him from his black horse. "Fine. I'll go alone. You go find a magician to help you, but Belle is my future bride. She belongs to me and I won't let that disgusting demon put one more finger on her."

With that, he kicked the flanks of his horse and rode out of the stables. Damon shook his head as he watched him go. He would be surprised if he ever saw him again.

Damon left soon after Gaston, but he didn't follow his hoof prints. Damon took the road back to his homeland, the Frontlands. He bypassed Lord Trundle's barren lands, instead heading into the lush forest. The journey had taken two weeks, but hopefully it would be worth it.

There was a small, barely noticeable path in the forest. It was too small for him to take his horse so he tied him to a tree and began the hike. The sun sank through the trees, turning the forest alive with silver moonbeams and the chatter of night creatures. This forest was the only one where no dangerous animals lurked because the ultimate being of goodness had long ago claimed this place. He didn't fear here, quite the opposite. Here he had hope.

The path led him an altar that was carved out of tree. Flowers grew in clumps around the clearing and he picked a few to place there. Others had come and put similar gifts on that altar, but his was the only fresh bouquet.

"Reul Ghorm," he said to the night sky, "Magnificent Blue Star. Hear, this humble knight's plea. Let me beg for your help if you are so willing to grant it."

There was a long silent moment where he feared his words had only been heard by the forest creatures. Then there was a gentle jingle, like tiny bells that whispered from the trees. He looked and saw and beautiful blue glow descending from the heavens, gently wafting down towards him. Once it was at eye level, the glow receded to show a beautiful woman with dark brown hair and sparkling brown eyes. She had four, transparent blue wings that fluttered at her back. She smiled when she saw him, alighting on a small branch. "I hear you, Sir Damon, and I am glad to help you. Tell me what troubles you."

"It is my lady," he said.

The Blue Fairy smiled. "Ah love," she said with a sigh, "the best and worst of afflictions."

Damon nodded in perfect agreement. "Belle is her name and I love her with all of my heart."

She let out a light laugh in delight. "Of course you do. I can see it in your eyes how much you care for her. Is it True Love?"

"I-I don't know," he admitted, ducking his eyes, "I am her friend, but I don't know if she loves me."

"Don't be so sad, good knight, I'm sure your lady will come to love you in time," she said, "but if you've come to ask for help in getting her to love you, I'm afraid it can't be done."

"No," he said quickly, "That's not why I'm here. She's been taken from me."

"How?"  
"By Rumplestiltskin."

The Blue Fairy gasped at the name, covering her mouth in one tiny hand. "Oh dear," she said, "I never dreamed he would take a woman like this."

"I've heard of his deals with infants," Damon said.

"Yes, but he's never kept the children for himself. I fear to think of what he wants with her."

"As do I." A wealth of images came to him, all of his nightmares for what Belle could be enduring at the hands of the Dark One washed over him. "Please," he begged, "You must help me free her."

"Did you make this deal?"

Damon shook his head. "Never. I would never give Belle to a monster for anything. She agreed to this deal because he promised to spare the lives of her family and friends from the ogres."

The Blue Fairy nodded. "Oh," she said, "So she made this deal willingly."

"She felt she had no choice," Damon insisted.

"You are probably right," the fairy said, her normally cheerful voice now solemn, "I'm sorry, Sir Damon, but there is nothing I can do."

This couldn't be right. She couldn't refuse him, she was the oldest power in the world. She _had_ to help him. "But, there has to be something—."

"I cannot break his deals," she said, "not unless the other party comes to me for help. You live by a code, Sir Damon, as so do my kind. That is the difference between Light and Dark magic. We follow the rules and never use our magic for ourselves, Rumplestiltskin doesn't. I want to help you, but I can't use my magic to break his deals. His magic always comes with a price and the debt has to be paid, no matter what."

She alighted from her branch to hang in the air before his disappointed face. "I'm sorry," she said, "I wish I could do more, but do not give up, good knight. There is always a way, but it will take more searching."

She smiled at him. "You have a noble heart, Sir Damon. I have no doubt that you will find that way. I promise to keep searching for a way to defeat him. Rumplestiltskin must be stopped, his plans could one day destroy this very world. Good luck to you."

"And to you," Damon said. Then she drifted back into the sky and disappeared, leaving him hollow with uncertainty.

_OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo OoOoOoO_

Despite his disappointment with his answer from the Blue Fairy, Sir Damon continued to seek aid. But he found that magic was elusive and can only be found when it wants to be. The few dealers of Light magic he did find agreed with the Blue Fairy's assessment: they could not provide aid unless Belle asked for it herself and she had not. Clearly Rumplestiltskin had deafened her pleas somehow. She truly was alone.

He had no choice but to return to Lord Maurice's court. They would rally the forces and storm Rumplestiltskin's castle. It might just be enough to get the beast's attention. Then Damon would ask for his own deal with him: anything he desired in exchange for Belle's freedom.

He was only gone for three weeks, but it was enough for everything to change once again.

Black was everywhere as he rode his horse into the village. The flags had been replaced by black mourning cloth, markets were closed and lilies hung on the door of every home. It might have been simply mourning those lost in the war, but Sir Damon's blood froze in his veins at the sight of it all. He could feel it in his bones once again. Something was wrong.

The castle was shrouded in mourning cloth. All of the guards were cloaked in black. The drapes kept the sunlight out in every room. It was best for all of those inside to forget the promise of a bright future.

For a moment, Damon hoped that he would find his lord dead. It was guilt he was bound to carry with him for the rest of his life.

Maurice lived.

He sat in his mourning robes, pale and listless as he plucked a lily free from it's petals and mashed them into wet lumps in his shaking hands. Sir Damon stopped before him. He cleared his throat to announce his presence and the sound echoed in the room. "My quest was in vain," he said, "I could find no one to help us."

"It doesn't matter," Maurice said, "She is beyond our aid now."

Damon's heart stopped. "My lord…do you mean…?"

"Belle is dead."

Time stopped. The world ceased to turn. Everything went still and silent as those three words consumed every bit of joy and goodness that had ever existed for one humble knight. Dreams, beautiful dreams he had kept hidden inside his heart, were snuffed out one by one like candles in a dark church.

He said no more to Lord Maurice. He spoke nothing to no one. He hadn't even realized he'd left the room until he was already outside of it. His feet commanded him now, led by the hollow beating of his heart. They brought him to the chapel where Sir Damon had seen Belle mourning her fate to be the wife of Sir Gaston. Her mother's gravestone now had a companion.

It was simply white stone etched with Belle's name. "Beauty in life, gentle in soul," it read beneath that. The only embellishment was the carving of a perfect rose in full bloom, the symbol of eternal love. Belle's favorite flower.

Then Sir Damon did a thing he'd never done before. He fell to his knees and wept.

* * *

NOTE: I started this before The Crocodile and decided not to change my original plan. Basically, Maurice was told by Regina somehow that Belle was dead, hence why he made a grave for her. She is not actually dead, they just think she is.


	2. Part II: The Vengeful Knight

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

* * *

Part II: The Vengeful Knight

_You who long for the Knightly Order, _

_It is fitting you should lead a new life; _

_Devoutly keeping watch in prayer, _

_Fleeing from sin, pride and villainy; _

_The Church defending, _

_The Widows and Orphans succouring. _

_Be bold and protect the people, _

_Be loyal and valiant, taking nothing from others. _

_Thus should a Knight rule himself._

_He should be humble of heart and always work, _

_And follow Deeds of Chivalry.; _

_Be loyal in war and travel greatly; _

_He should frequent tourneys and joust for his Lady Love; _

_He must keep honor with all, _

_So that he cannot be held to blame. _

_No cowardice should be found in his doings,_

_Above all, he should uphold the weak, _

_Thus should a Knight rule himself._

—Eustace Deschamps

A line had formed for the mourners to pay their respects to the poor deceased. Gold did his duty and walked before the coffin and stared down into the blank face of Sheriff Graham. It was odd how the dead no longer resembled the living. Once the spirit was gone, it was only a corpse, useful only as fertilizer.

He spoke no words. Gave the man only a cursory look before walking back to his seat. He preferred watching the others as they said their goodbyes. That really was the only point to funerals, even if the departed cared little for words.

Emma Swan was doing her best to keep her tears at bay, but Gold suspected she would lose that battle. She hadn't been in love with the poor sheriff, but she had been on that path. He could recognize the signs well though he'd been oblivious to them when he had found himself walking that road. The sad truth was that they shared one thing in common: they found it too late.

She was lucky that she hadn't finished falling for him. It would hurt now, but it wouldn't be an endless agony of knowing she'd had something so rare, so beautiful, and let it slip away. In time, the pain would ease. Unlike his pain. His pain would last forever.

He watched as she stood over the coffin, looking into the empty face of a once good man. At least she had this chance to say goodbye. He never did.

* * *

_Fairy Tale World_

_Two Years Before the Dark Curse._

Sir Damon never asked how she died. He had no interest in the details of his lady's demise, his imagination conjured enough evils about it. He never asked if the stone actually guarded the bones of the Lady Belle or if the earth was empty of her remains. All of those things didn't matter. Belle was gone and nothing could change that.

Sir Gaston had vanished and was assumed dead. It was hardly a surprise, but the Duke did mourn his son. No one dared to venture to Rumplestitltskin's castle and seek out justice. They would rather admit their defeat and soberly continue with their meager lives.

Damon had sworn an oath to Lord Maurice and he would never break it, no matter how his soul longed to ride to that castle and lop off the beast's head. So he stayed.

The province rebuilt from the damage left by the ogres. Harvests were planted, livestock was herded and life carried on. But Sir Damon went every day and left a rose for Belle and shed some silent tears for his failure. His life was meaningless now. He only stayed because Maurice was just as lost as he was. Belle would have wanted him to watch over her father, especially when trouble brewed again.

This time it wasn't the ogres who threatened, but men. Lord Falstaff of the neighboring province began to block trade from Lord Maurice. He set up blockades, even burned fields. It was all petty schemes that were dishonorable to a once loyal ally of Maurice. Falstaff had aided them as best they could during the Ogre Wars, it made no sense that he would betray him now.

But so he had. And Damon longed for the battle he knew was coming. Perhaps some lucky arrow would find his heart and end his pointless existence. He longed for nothing more than to see Belle's sweet face and that would only come with death.

And so Damon prepared the troops and waited for his summons. Seven months after Belle's death, he was finally called to Sir Maurice's council room. But there were no other generals, no advisors present. It was only Maurice with a parchment spread before him on the table.

"Sir Damon," he said slowly. He spoke softer now after he'd lost his daughter. His face was heavily lined and his once strong form was now bent and sagging with grief. "I understand you've been preparing yourself for war."

"Yes, my lord," he said, "the men are eager to serve you in battle once again."

Maurice's lips curved in soft smile. "My thanks, but there will be no need for that. Falstaff has given his terms. The blockade will end, the fields will be replanted and the people will be safe again."

Sir Damon frowned. "Generous terms, but what is his price?"

"I am to turn my province over to him."

Damon felt his gut tighten. He shook his head fiercely. "Do not give into his terms. We will fight—."

"It is done," Maurice said. He pointed to the document that now held his signature neatly placed at the bottom of the parchment, "It is no hardship."

"But, my lord, you were given this duty for your service to the king. It was your reward, your inheritance."

"Yes," he said solemnly, "It was meant to be in my family forever, but I have no family now. The people need to be cared for and Falstaff has sworn to treat them well. I will give him everything he asks. It matters little to me now."

Maurice looked up and smiled at him before gently putting one hand on his shoulder. "You've been a loyal knight, Sir Damon, the best I've ever seen. I'm grateful for your service, but now I must release you and all of my men from it. You are free to serve whoever you wish. Go in good faith."

Maurice walked away and sat on his throne one last time. This broken, lost man was once a great lord who served his people and his king with honor and pride. Now he had nothing.

Falstaff arrived with his men to take control of Maurice's castle. Damon had planned to avoid to man and his inevitable request for him to swear fealty to him. He'd had enough of servitude, for like Maurice, he had nothing left to offer, not even his heart. But Falstaff found him anyways.

"Sir Damon, I've been looking for you."

"So you have," Damon said coolly. He was resigned to this talk but not civil about it.

"I wanted to ask you something." Here it was and Damon had his answer all ready. But Falstaff surprised him by pulling out a small purse and pressing it into his hand. "Please give this to Maurice. It is the least I can do under these circumstances."

"The least?" Damon hissed at him, "You've turned against your ally for profit. He just lost his daughter and now you take away his rightful station. What honor is there in that?"

"None," Falstaff said. The heat of Damon's anger cooled as he saw the regret and sorrow in the lord's face. "I am truly sorry, but I have no choice."

"No choice?"

He nodded. "My son was dying so I begged the Dark One to help me. His price for my son's restored health was to take everything away from Maurice except his life."

Damon's jaw went slack. He knew he must look ridiculous with a wide, gaping mouth and eyes rounded by surprise. Rumplestiltskin had planned all of this. Killing Belle hadn't been enough for him now he had to destroy her father. Why would he do this? What did he gain? Perhaps if this was revenge it would make sense, but Maurice had never done anything to offend the beast. He hadn't even sought justice for his daughter's death.

Maurice couldn't understand it either, but he simply hung his head after Damon had finished telling him Falstaff's tale. "Strange," he murmured, "but it doesn't matter. I would have gladly given him everything had he let Belle live. If he wants to destroy me then there is nothing I can do. He may take what he will, I have no desire for any of it anymore."

Sir Damon did not swear fealty to Lord Falstaff. Instead he left the province with Maurice. He found his former lord a position as a gardener for King Midas. It would give Maurice the money he needed to live, even if it was below his station. He was content with his meager existence.

With Belle's father secured, Damon finally allowed his rage to consume him. At night he clutched Belle's threads in his fist and whispered promises to her soul. His dreams ceased to be haunted by Belle, but were filled his plans for revenge: Rumplestiltskin hanging by his neck from the world's tallest tree, burning on a pyre built from thousands of spinning wheels and lit by a magic fire, his black blood soaking the earth as his head was finally free from his shoulders.

Everyone feared Rumplestiltskin too much to put an end to his evil schemes. But Damon had nothing left to lose.

_OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo OoOoOoO_

Sir Damon traveled the continent and beyond in search for what he needed. A simple sword or rope could never bring about the Dark One's end. It had to be magic. But Light magic had strict rules and could never be used for revenge. Dealers of Dark magic were willing to help, but their power always came with a price. Damon was willing to pay it, but he had nothing to offer and would not hurt anyone else in his quest. Only the Dark One would suffer.

He needed a blending of the two. Someone who was willing to dabble with both arts, who had the conscience of someone in the Light but without the limits such as those in the Dark. His long quest finally led him to the small kingdom of Camelot where whispers of a powerful sorcerer were rampant.

King Arthur was willing to hear his plea. Damon told his story of how he'd served Maurice, fallen in love with Belle and then lost her to the cruel hands of Rumplestiltskin. He spoke of his quest for revenge and asked for help only magic could offer.

At the conclusion of his story, a man in odd robes stepped forward. He had a long white beard and weathered skin like he'd lived for an age, but his movements were fluid and lacked the slowness of time. "Your story has touched me, Sir Damon," the man said, "I am Merlin and I am willing to help you."

Merlin led Damon to his lair deep in the heart of Arthur's magnificent castle. It was a cold, cavernous place filled with books and jars of potions. He imagined Rumplestiltskin had a similar place but at least here Dark magic was not the only thing being brewed.

"I have dabbled with the dark art," Merlin said, "and I have tasted it's sweet lies. It is a difficult thing to overcome it's allure, most give themselves to it. Rumplestiltskin is one of them."

Damon frowned at him. His words were strange and made no sense. He was anxious to move on and opened his mouth to urge him to give him what he'd long sought, but the sorcerer held up a hand to silence him. "You are impatient, but you must know this. Rumplestiltskin has lived for centuries, much longer than myself even and I have lived many lifetimes. Few know his true origins, but I have looked into his fearsome eyes and seen that he is no demon spat out of another world. He was once a man, a man who has wrapped himself in so much darkness that he cannot even be called a man anymore.

"I tell you this so you can understand what you ask me. You will not be slaying a dragon, an ogre or another beast easily labeled as an animal. You will be slaying a man, born just as you were."

Damon wanted to deny those words. Surely the Dark One was never human, but something far more dangerous, but this was an all powerful sorcerer. Merlin knew things, it was plain in those odd grey eyes. He knew the truth about himself, he surely knew the truth about Rumplestiltskin.

"I admit surprise," Damon said, "but no remorse. Perhaps he was once a man, but he is still a murderer. My lady deserves justice and no one but myself is willing to deliver it."

"Justice is decided by kings and courts, what you ask for is revenge."

"Call it what you will, but Rumplestiltskin has shattered enough lives. He took away the kindest, purest soul ever seen in this world; he must pay for his sins."

Merlin held up his gnarled hand. "Calm yourself, knight, I agree with you. But the magic you seek is fierce and can easily be turned from a tool of good to a weapon of evil. I must have your word that you'll use it only for this purpose and then you'll discard it so it never falls into irresponsible hands."

Damon put one hand to his heart. "I swear."

"The hearts of men are easily turned, you must use another marker."

But his heart was all he had left, and it only beat for revenge now when it had once lived for love. For her.

That was when Damon pulled the tattered threads from his pocket and clutched them in his fist set between himself and the sorcerer. "I swear on the soul of my lady, Belle, that I will use your gift only for her and nothing else."

Merlin nodded once. "I need your sword, Sir Damon."

The sweet song of the metal slipping free from it's sheath was the only sound in the room. Damon handed the sword to Merlin. The wizard actually held the sword properly, betraying perhaps some previous skill with a blade long ago discarded for magic. He then cast the sword onto a trough of straw. With a snap of his fingers, a white hot flame consumed the straw and the sword. Minutes later the fire died and all that remained of his faithful blade was a silver liquid.

Sir Damon was too stunned to voice any protest of anger or bewilderment. Merlin wasted no time in collecting the metal into a bowl. He produced a vial from his sleeve and held it before Damon. "This is water blessed by the most powerful of water creatures, Viviane, the Lady who rules the Lake of Avalon. It will give you the power to kill the Dark One."

He poured the water into the bowl slowly, the liquid shimmering with an odd glow that proved it was far more than mere water. After a few moments, Merlin spilled the contents of the bowl onto the dirt floor. The line of silver liquid glowed and moved with it's own life until it had solidified into the shape of a sword. But this sword had a silver hilt with a blade that gleamed white.

"Take it," Merlin said. Damon hesitated briefly before he closed his hand around the hilt. The sword pulsed with life…no, with magic. It was perfectly balanced, the correct weight and the hilt molded to his palm as if it was designed just for him.

"Go," Merlin said, "slay the Dark One, avenge your dear lady. And once your quest is complete, toss the sword into water."

"I shall," Damon promised and bowed before the sorcerer, "I thank you."

"Go in good peace and fulfill your life's purpose."

_OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo OoOoOoO_

Damon rode out of Camelot with renewed vigor. The magic sword rested at his side, waiting to be stained with Rumplestiltskin's blood. At last his horse was drawing him closer to the Dark Castle. At last he would have his revenge.

His dreams were sweeter now but sad. He had visions of the life he had wanted with Belle, the one that would never come. He dreamed of the children he never had, the adventures they never shared. What made him shed silent tears in his sleep was the vision of Belle smiling at him with her blue eyes filled with the love she'd never truly shone him. He would never know if she ever could.

Still, he rode on and hardly stopped for food or rest. His horse did not share his same desire and demanded time to regain its strength. He was only a few days ride from the Dark Castle when he stopped outside an old house. It appeared to be abandoned, but there was still a well that he hoped held water.

Damon was about to pull on the rope and draw the bucket from it's dark depths when he saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. He prepared to draw his sword but stopped when he heard a maidenly gasp. It was only a woman dressed in a long red cloak. She was young and quite beautiful with raven hair that was only partially covered by her hood.

"My apologies, miss," Sir Damon said, "I did not mean to startle you."

"It's quite all right," she said, "I did not expect to find anyone here."

"Is this your home?" She nodded once. "Then may I ask that I draw some water from you well for myself and my horse. We have journeyed long and need to be refreshed."

The girl smiled, making her even more lovely. "Yes, of course." She held up her basket before him. "And please, take some food as well."

"You are too kind, miss," he said.

"Please, call me Red. And you are?"

"Sir Damon," he told her with a bow, "Once a knight of the Marchlands."

Red blinked at him. "The Marchlands? That's very far away. Why is a knight like you all the way up here in the north?"

"A quest," Damon said as he gave the bucket for his horse to drink it's fill, "I seek the Dark One."

Her large eyes flared open wide and her pretty red mouth let out another gasp. "Rumplestiltskin. You venture to his castle?"

Red shook her head, sending her dark tresses tumbling free of her hood. "No, no you mustn't go there."

"I must," Damon chided her gently, "But fear not, miss. I do not seek a deal with him, only his head."

"But it's impossible."

"Not with magic."

Red shook her head again. "No, Sir Damon, Rumplestiltskin is no longer at his castle. He has been defeated."

Damon felt his blood run cold in his veins. "He is dead."

"No, he has been imprisoned by King James and Queen Snow White. He can no longer use his magic or hurt people with his deals."

That news was far more surprising than learning the beast was dead. Damon had heard about the young king and queen who had defeated Queen Regina and King George and promised to rule both lands with kindness and honor. It was a common promise, one rarely fulfilled, though the people were stirring with hope again.

But hope was lost for him. If he could not kill Rumplstiltskin then his reason for living no longer existed.

Red must have seen his crestfallen look or at least had sensed that he was upset by her news. She walked over to him and gently laid her hand on his arm. "I can take you to them if you wish. Perhaps they might help you somehow."

He couldn't imagine anyway they could help him, but he truly had nothing left to lose.

_OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo OoOoOoO_

The castle of King James and Queen Snow White rested on an island on a lake. It was a beautiful castle, filled with cheer and promise of a new life and new order run by two gentle souls. Damon had doubted the hopes of the peasants, but when he stood in the two monarchs' presence, he could see they were everything they had promised: benevolent rulers who truly wanted to help their people and make the kingdoms prosper.

"Red has told us that you were seeking Rumplestiltskin," King James said. He spoke exactly the way a king should, respectful and yet humble. "You have come a long way for such a thing. It begs the question, why."

"Love," Damon said and for the second time, he told his tale to a king.

The fair Snow White wiped her cheeks dry at the end of his tale and reached for her husband's hand to hold. Truly they loved one another, a love Damon had longed for but could never have. Even James bowed his head in sadness for the knight.

"You have a unique and heartbreaking story," James said, "I'm sorry for your loss."

Damon bowed his head at that undeniable truth.

"But I cannot give you what you seek. Rumplestiltskin is to remain where he is, alive."

Damon wanted to beg and he wanted rage, but he was a knight. A knight always treated a king with deference and nobility. So Damon kept his emotions locked up inside. "Surely no one will regret his loss," Damon said.

"Quite true," James admitted, "But I do not keep him alive because I wish it. You see, he has spirited away an ally of ours, Prince Thomas. His wife, Ella, is pregnant with their first child. Rumplestiltskin wanted the child but with the Blue Fairy's aid we helped them imprison him. He claims he had nothing to do with Thomas's disappearance, but he is not to be believed. I must keep him alive in hopes that he will tell us where Thomas is for Ella's sake."

Damon almost wished it had been as simple as a perverse desire to claim to have the Dark One captured. Then it would be a simple matter of betraying this king and killing the beast anyways. But his reason was noble and Damon knew there would be no killing, not for the sake of the poor princess and her unborn child.

"I understand," he said but his disappointment was evident.

James nodded. "You are a noble knight, Sir Damon. Is there anything else I can do for you, anything at all?"

He was about to refuse him since there was little anyone could do for him now. Revenge was beyond him, love had passed him by. But there was one thing he could have, something small that would answer the questions he had always been too fearful to ask.

"I wish to see him," Damon said, "I wish to ask him what he did to Belle and why."

James stared at him for a long time and then looked down at his hands. He knew his request was about to be denied before he actually spoke the words. "I'm sorry, but he is not allowed visitors. He is far too dangerous."

But Snow White had been silent far too long. She shook her head and took a hold of her husband's hand between both of hers. "Charming, you must do this. He has waited far too long."

Damon smiled at the beautiful queen. Her words were enough because James nodded. "All right," he said, "But no doubt it will require a dangerous thing: a deal."

_OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo OoOoOoO_

Rumplestiltskin's prison wasn't far from the castle. It had been built from abandoned dwarf mines still coated with particles of fairy dust. "The dust counteracts his magic," James told Damon as he led him through the tunnels, "He can do nothing here but live and reflect on his past."

"I highly doubt he has any regrets," Damon said, his words echoing throughout the stone walls.

"I had thought the same, but he is a complicated being. Sometimes I think he's insane, others I think he is more aware than anyone else. He knows things. He's seen things. I don't think anyone could completely understand him."

Damon didn't want to understand him, just to kill him. But that was now impossible so he would have to settle for answers. It wouldn't satisfy him but maybe it would temper some of the ache in his heart.

It was clearly a miserable little hole James had stuffed the Dark One into but it was no less than what he had deserved. Had he tossed Belle into a similar place? Had she been denied the sunlight all of those months until finally she'd died from the lack of freedom? It would kill him to know the truth but he'd been waiting for death ever since he'd lost her. He was ready more than ever now.

The torchlight stopped before a set of iron bars. They grew out of the stone like jagged teeth of some frightening monster. How fitting, Damon couldn't help but think.

"Rumplestiltskin," James called out to the darkness beyond the bars.

"That is my name," the eerie voice of the most dangerous creature in all of the lands drifted towards them, "And you know people only call it when they need something."

He came out of the shadows swiftly, leaping to the bars and gripping them so he stood taller than they. Rumplestiltskin was just as strange as Damon remembered. His greenish-grey skin was murky and had a shine to it like he had bathed in gold dust. His eyes were dark pits of red, yellow and black. Unholy, monstrous eyes that showed how evil his soul really ways. His hair was a mat of tangled curls. Black nails, closer to claws than anything else, grew on his hands. When he opened his mouth he revealed a smile full of stained, brown teeth that held no cheer. "So tell me, dearie, what do you want from the Dark One?"

"This man wants knowledge from you," James said.

"Ah, well you know that nothing from me is free."

"He doesn't want magic."

Rumplestiltskin let out a horrible giggle. "Well magic would be pretty hard for me to do down here. No, I won't give you what _you_ want unless you give me something_ I_ want."

"I want the truth," Sir Damon said.

At last those strange eyes met his. "Truth?" Rumplestiltskin repeated, "Well that isn't what I'm known for, but that I can give you, for a price."

"What is it?" James asked, "And no magic."

"Yes, yes, no magic," Rumplestiltskin said impatiently, "Simply bring me something from my castle."

"What is it?"

The imp ignored James's question, turning his attention once again to Damon. "I remember you," he said cheerful, "you're Lord Trundle's little squire. You let out quite a loud shriek. Tell me, dearie, how fond are you of snakes now?"

No use in denying the fact that snakes have always shaken him up ever since Rumplestiltskin turned his and his comrades' swords into cobras. Instead, Damon opted to ignore his taunt and cut right to the chase. "I am Sir Damon—."

"Ooh, we're a knight now," Rumplestiltskin crooned, "Which lord can claim you as his slave?"

"I _served_ Lord Maurice of—."

Rumplestiltskin let out a violent hiss and his grip on the bars tightened so where the bones and veins were rigid against the skin of his hands. "_Never!_" he growled, "Never speak of that man in my presence."

Damon glared at him and dared to take another step closer. "You hate to hear your victims' names?"

"He deserved everything he got and more," Rumplestiltskin said, "And if you've come on his behalf then you can tell him that I'll gladly send myself to hell before I help him."

Even James was startled by his reaction. Damon brushed back his own response. If he carried on this argument then he wouldn't get what he needed. "This isn't about _Maurice._" He relished Rumplestiltskin's bristle at the name, "This is about his daughter."

The imp's eyes widened and for a second something flickered there, a spark of emotion that Damon didn't have time to identify. "What about her?"

"You took her," Damon said.

"She came of her own volition."

"She had no choice."

"Everyone has a choice, Squire, and never accuse me of forcing her will. She _chose_."

"You threatened her people," James spoke up.

Rumplestiltskin directed his black gaze towards the young king. "The ogres threatened, I offered aid. She was willing to pay the price."

"You mean be the price," Damon said, "You took her away from everyone who loved her because you knew she was the one thing none of us would want to give."

The fiend looked him up and down slowly and then locked his gaze with his eyes. Damon could tell he was being studied, perhaps his thoughts and heart being read, but he had no secrets left to hide. Still, it rankled him when Rumplestiltskin laughed. "Oh I see!" he cried with a hint of bitterness, "You were in love with her. How romantic, the toiling knight who loves his lady from afar."

Rumplestiltskin inched closer, as much as the bars would allow. "Did she know? Of course she didn't. You're far too subservient to actually admit to your lady of your affections."

He let out another giggle but his smile was cruel. "Do you consider yourself brave, Squire?"

"More than some," Damon said.

"Not to me," Rumplestiltskin said, "You see you're the worst kind of coward. You're not afraid to die or to fight, you're afraid to show the one thing that could hurt you the most: you're heart.

"So slay your dragons, kill your monsters, die in battle," the imp said coolly, "But that won't change anything. You'll die a knight, but you'll die completely unloved."

Damon realized his hand was gripping the hilt of his magicked sword. One swing and it would be over. James would likely arrest him, but a part of Damon didn't care. Nobility and honor had gained him nothing but a good name. He'd lost everything else.

But Belle would be disappointed in him if he killed an unarmed and imprisoned creature. There was nothing noble or good or right about it. He would only be stooping to his level.

"I want to know what you did to Belle," Damon said, his voice breaking over her name.

Rumplestiltskin snarled at him and slammed his full body hard against the bars. "What did I do? What did _I_ do? Oh yes, because I'm the monster, the _beast_, that means I must have cut her throat and drank her blood with my tea." One scaled hand slipped through the bars to point at him, "Let me tell you this, the worst monsters don't look like me. They look like you. They pretend to be men, noble lords but they are the ones who murder their children."

"She's dead because of you!" Damon shouted.

Rumplestiltskin let out an inhuman growl and shook the bars for a moment like the caged animal he was. "You tell that loathsome toad who calls himself her father, you tell him that the only reason he is alive is because of _her_. She kept her word so I kept mine. But I want him dead! He deserves to die!"

"What did you do to her?" Damon demanded,

"Nothing!" Rumplestiltskin snapped back, "I did nothing. I never harmed a hair on her head."

"You lie."

"I let her go," he said, "She was alive when she left me. It's not my fault! I didn't kill her! It's not my fault!"

James was the only one with a cool temper in the prison. He stepped forward, putting himself partially between the imp and the knight. "You're saying you didn't kill the Lady Belle."

"No," Rumplestiltskin hissed.

"He's a liar," Damon insisted, "He's trying to trick us."

James looked at Damon and put up a hand to silence him. Then he turned back to Rumplestiltskin. "You swear."

"I could, but you doubt my word already so what is the point?"

"Swear it," James insisted, "Swear on the soul of the woman you loved."

Damon frowned at James, his eyes questioning him. Loved? Rumplestiltskin couldn't love. What could the king be talking about?

Rumplestiltskin stared at James for a moment and then let out a shrill laugh. This time it wasn't bitter or cruel but genuine amusement, some sort of private joke only he could understand. James glared at him. "Do you swear?"

"Yes, yes I swear," Rumplestiltskin snapped out of his laughter, "I swear on her pure soul."

James nodded once, but Damon glared back at the monster. He was lying, he had to be. Belle never made it home alive, he knew that much, but Rumplestiltskin was refusing to admit the truth.

"I gave you what you wanted," Rumplestiltskin said, "Now you must give me something."

"What do you want?" James asked, "And nothing to do with magic."

"I remember the rules," he said, "It's simple, I want you to go to my castle and bring me back my most treasured item. It's in my trophy room."

"What is it?"

Rumplestiltskin smirked at him. "Something only I could value. You'll know it when you get there."

"No games," James snapped.

"I play none," he said, "Now I'm done with you both."

Rumplestiltskin shot Damon one last heated look before he slunk back into the shadows to whatever lay inside of his cell. James let out a sigh and shook his head. "We won't get anything else out of him."

"He gave us nothing," Damon said.

James didn't reply right away, but that was just proof that he wasn't so certain. Did he actually believe the imp spoke the truth? "Regardless, we must keep our word."

They had no choice because that was what separated them from Rumplestiltskin: honor and integrity. He had none.

_OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo OoOoOoO_

James kissed his wife goodbye and urged her to rest for the sake of the child she carried before he readied himself for his journey to the Dark Castle. It was in the stables where Damon walked up beside him and said, "I am going with you."

"There is no need," James said, "I can go alone."

"Please," he said, his need naked in his voice, "I need to see the place where he brought her." Since the beast wouldn't tell the truth, perhaps the castle would be willing to reveal its master's secrets.

And so they rode out together towards the mountains. They were in luck that it was Spring so there was no need to wait for the snow to melt. It took a few days to reach the Dark Castle and it was odd finding that the land surrounding it was really quite beautiful. Even the castle itself was picturesque set against the tall green grass and wild flowers. When they reached the boundaries of the castle grounds it was obvious that the land had been neglected. The gardens were overgrown and the gate hung open when before it was closed. With the master gone, the castle had lost it's own power and was being neglected.

They wasted no time in gawking though Damon did feel an involuntary chill when he saw the place he stood before, when he first felt the prickle of Dark magic and saw his sword turn into a hissing snake.

They walked inside and followed the corridors to the trophy room. Snow White had briefly seen it once and her directions were still remarkably accurate. Obviously a visit inside the Dark One's castle was a hard thing to forget.

Sir Damon stood outside the doorway and looked into the room that held Rumplestiltskin's favorite trophies. It was surprisingly comfortable with a long, dark wooden table and a chair by the fireplace. There was a glass cabinet filled with all sorts of things. Pedestals littered the room holding rare items such as branch with golden fleece, a lamp, and scythe and an ogre's hand. The curtains were all drawn open to let in the sunlight.

Damon stared at those windows for a while. It was a long time ago, but he could have sworn that all of the curtains covered the windows before. Perhaps he was mistaken. He had only stood on the outside and hadn't looked at the castle for long before.

"This is impossible," James said as he looked at the wealth of treasures, "He did this on purpose."

Damon look around the room, taking in each object one by one. Some were very valuable, others were foreign, some were both. One was neither.

The teacup sat on a pedestal that was close to the center of the room. It was small, practically swallowed up by it's resting place. It was white with a hand-painted blue branch on it's face, a blue foot and a gold handle and rim. Perhaps it had once been valuable, but an ugly chip had been gouged out of it's lip. Now it was worthless. And yet still honored.

"This is it," Damon said. He picked up the cup and held it out to James.

"How do you know?"

"He said it was something only he could value. We understand everything else in this room as treasure but this. This is worthless to us, but not to him."

James took the cup and turned it over and over in his hands. His thumb gently traced the chip. "Why would he want this?"

"Why else? Magic," Damon said, "You know you can't trust him. This cup must have some magic that can get him out of that prison."

James didn't make an immediate reply. He frowned down at the cup like it could tell him it's secrets but was just being stubborn. "His word can't be trusted," Damon reminded him.

"I know," he said, "I never intended to hand this to him without getting it checked."

"How are you going to do that?"

"I have a lot of friends," James said, "Some who are more powerful than even Rumplestiltskin."

_OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo OoOoOoO_

James brought Damon and the cup to a clearing in the Enchanted Forest. After only a few moments of waiting, a blue glow appeared from the trees and drifted down towards them. Damon couldn't help but remember his last encounter with the Blue Fairy and how it had led to naught.

"James, I thought you would be home preparing for your coming child," the fairy said kindly. Her gaze then fell on Sir Damon and she offered him a sad smile. "Sir Damon, I've heard of your story. I am truly sorry for what happened to your lady. I wish I could have saved her."

"It doesn't matter now," he said solemnly. He didn't really blame her, he just couldn't find any cheer in her presence either.

The Blue Fairy gave him another sad look and then turned her attention to James. "What do you need of me?"

"We made a deal with Rumplestiltskin," James said.

"Always a dangerous thing," The Blue Fairy said.

"Yes, but I wanted to know what he did to Belle," Damon said in James's defense.

The fairy nodded once. "What was his price?"

"This cup." James held up the chipped teacup for her to see. "He said it only held value to him. We suspect it has magic and he intends to use it to escape."

The Blue Fairy flitted closer to the cup, hovering just above it. She reached out and placed one small hand on the rim, right next to the chip. "There is magic in it," she said

Damon rocked back on his heels. "I knew it. I told you he couldn't be trusted."

"No," the fairy said, "It isn't a magic that can be used for escape. He's attached a memory spell to this cup."

"Memory spell?" James repeated with a quizzical look on his brow.

"Yes. He's attached the memory of someone on this cup because he didn't want to forget them."

James and Damon glanced at one another, each reading the same question in each other's eyes: who? "Is there anyway to find out what memories are attached to this spell?" James asked.

"There is a way." The Blue Fairy waved her wand and just behind them a bowl appeared on a pedestal. It wasn't an ordinary bowl, but was made of mirrored glass. Inside, the bowl was filled with water, or something similar to water. They followed the Blue Fairy's brief flight to the bowl. She alighted onto the rim and gestured to the water. "Dip the cup into the water and let it fall back in."

James did as instructed and the watched as the water dripped into the bowl. The ripples rocked through the water and then the liquid went cloudy with a haze of magic. Once the cup was empty, the water cleared and an image appeared in it's stead.

Damon recognized the walls of Maurice's council room. It took a moment for the image to completely come into focus, but he recognized Maurice, Sir Evan, Sir Gaston and…"Belle," he spoke her name out loud.

_She was dressed completely in gold with her shining hair tumbling around her shoulders. His heart ached to see her again when he thought he never would. She was so beautiful, for more than just her looks. She had the perfect soul._

_ She was tucked into her father's side, watching an empty doorway along with the others. They eyed it with wonder and confusion until Rumplestiltskin's voice sent them whirling around to face him. "Well that was a bit of a let down!"_

_He proceeded to tease the people at his mercy, pointing out their desperation like it was a part of a game and swatting away Gaston's sword. "Yes I can protect your little town…for a price." His eyes flickered to Belle at that final word, his decision made in that instant._

_ "We sent you a promise of gold."_

_ "Ah, you see I _make_ gold. What I want is something a bit more special." He was grinning as he spoke, savoring the moment to come, "My price…is her."_

_ Belle met Rumplestiltskin's eyes betraying no fear or horror, just surprise. Damon was proud of her for that reaction. She never took her eyes off her predator as Gaston used their betrothal as an excuse, one that wouldn't stop the Dark One._

_ "It's her or no deal." He was looking at Belle as he spoke. Damon knew this deal wasn't with Maurice but with her. He was telling her to decide._

_ "Get out!" Maurice barked, "Leave!"_

_ Rumplestiltskin said "As you wish," while he slowly headed for the door. This was a trap. He knew Belle would agree that was why he made a big show of leaving. That was why Rumplestiltskin betrayed no surprise when she called for him to wait._

_ Belle stepped before the beast, her head held high and announced, "I will go with him."_

_ Rumplestiltskin giggled and Maurice and Gaston both protested her decision. She held them back with "No one decides my fate but me. I shall go."_

_ "It's forever, dearie," the imp told her devilishly._

_ Belle showed no fear. "My family, my friends, they shall all live?"_

"Clever girl," James murmured from beside Damon.

_"You have my word."_

_"Then you have mine. I will go with you forever."_

So that was how the deal was made, how Belle's fate was cast into misery. Damon watched as she shared one last tender moment with her father before Rumplestiltskin urged her away. She never looked back.

_They were in the Dark Castle now. Belle tried to look around, but her new master was in a hurry so she had to quicken her steps. "Where are you taking me?"_

_ "Let's call it…you're room."_

Damon didn't like the sound of that. His prediction came true as her "room" turned out to be a dungeon. His fists clenched as the Dark One carelessly pushed Belle inside and locked the door, laughing at her protests. She banged on the door, but he ignored her pleas and simply locked away.

He was certain this was the end. Belle would remain locked inside the room for the rest of her days, wasting away slowly until finally she died of her misery.

But no. The images continued.

_She was released and ordered to bring him tea. Belle finally showed some nerves as she poured him his tea and listened to his list of chores for her to do. She never complained, and agreed to everything he asked. Her eyes did dart towards the spinning wheel when he mentioned she was to bring him fresh straw._

_ "Oh! And you will skin the children I hunt for their pelts."_

_ Belle gasped and dropped the teacup she was holding. "That one was a quip," Rumplestiltskin smiled at her fright, "Not serious."_

_ She released a shaky breath and then bent down to retrieve the cup. "Oh my," she said, "I'm so sorry, but it's…it's chipped." She held up the cup for him to see, stammering out now, "You—you can hardly see it."_

Damon frowned at the image and then looked at the cup that sat next to the bowl. James and the Blue Fairy eyed it too. It was indeed the same cup, the same chip. "What is this?" James asked.

_"Well it's just a cup," Rumplestiltskin dismissed the incident without any rancor or punishment. Belle looked back at him with relief._

"I have no idea," Damon admitted. But something was biting into his stomach, twisting like a dagger. He didn't like this. Not one bit.

_Rumplestiltskin seemed to pay her little mind. She worked. He spun. Only when she entered or left the room did he notice and acknowledge her presence. Belle simply endured it all, a struggle for one who had always craved company. _

_ She was serving him a meal and patiently waiting for him to finish. He simply waved his hand when he was done and she moved to clear away the plates. It was then that the red streak on her arm was noticed by her master._

_ He grabbed her arm, making her gasp and try to jump away. "What happened?" he asked._

_ "N—nothing," she said, "I—I burned myself," she stammered, "I'm sorry, I'll try to be more careful, I promise."_

_ Belle's blue eyes flared open wide when she saw him raise his hand, but then it began to glow with the purple haze of magic. He gently placed his ugly hand on her arm, covering the burn. After a moment, he moved his hand away. The skin was freshly healed._

_ She stared at the expanse of unscarred flesh, lightly tracing it with her fingers. "Thank you," she said._

_ "Can't have my maid burned into ash," Rumplestiltskin said._

_ "No, I suppose not," she said. She turned back to the table and resumed her work of clearing the plates. He wandered over to his wheel, but merely stroked the wood and watched it turn a bit. She was about to leave when he called, out, "Belle."_

_ "Yes?"_

_ "If you hurt yourself again, come to me."_

_ She blinked at him over her armful of dishes and then nodded. "I will."_

_ The image shifted again. Now Belle was standing at the top of a ladder and tugging on some curtains that cloaked the window. Rumplestiltskin was at his wheel spinning gold out of straw. Belle stared at him for a moment and then asked, "Why do you spin so much?"_

_ He stopped, glanced over his shoulder at her and then opted to say nothing. "Sorry," she said, "It's just…you've spun more straw into gold than you can ever spend."_

_ He spun the wheel, slower this time and said, "I like the watch the wheel. Helps me forget."_

_ "Forget what?"_

_ He glanced up and then smiled. "I guess it worked."_

_ He let out a hideous giggle, the kind that made kings tremble, but Belle laughed with him. It was like…like she found him amusing. Rumplestiltskin watched her, his eyes following her up that ladder and he did something unthinkable. He abandoned his wheel._

_ "What _are_ you doing?" he asked as he walked to the foot of the ladder._

_ "Opening these," Belle announced as she struggled with the curtains, "It's almost Spring, we should let some light in."_

_ She tugged twice more and then frowned down at him. "What did you do, nail them down?"_

_ "Yes."_

_ Belle smiled and shook her head and resumed her efforts. She pulled hard, as hard as she could, harder than the nails could hold the curtains. They fell. So did she._

_ She made no cry of fear, it had happened too fast. One moment she was falling the next she was safe…in Rumplestiltskin's arms._

_ He'd caught her, held her securely with his wiry strength. He blinked in the new sunlight like it was the first time he'd seen it in ages, but she stared at him. There eyes met, bright blue with twisted red. She struggled, but finally found the breath to say, "Thank you."_

_ Rumplestiltskin wasn't breathing at all. He stared at her for another moment and then let out startled sound in his throat before he nearly dropped her. She landed on her feet, but took a moment to steady herself. "Thank you," she said again._

_ His limbs thrashed about awkwardly before he found some small semblance of normalcy. "It's no matter," he said and started to walk away._

_ "I'll, uh, put the curtains back up," Belle said and gestured to the pile of fabric at her feet._

_ "Uh…" he stammered and then shook his head. "There's no need. I'll get used to it."_

_ He walked back to his wheel with a frown wrinkling his face. He toyed with his hands before he sat at his wheel. He didn't spin. Instead he stared at it like he'd completely forgotten how to operate his favorite possession to begin with. Finally he looked back over at Belle who was gathering up the fallen curtains. She smiled back at him._

_ He blinked at her and simply stared. His eyes followed her wherever she went._

Damon felt the urge to topple the pedestal. He hated what he was seeing. It was twisting him up, making him ache inside. Belle was alive in these images and not…unhappy. She even seemed to have warmed the heart of Rumplestiltskin a bit. Then how did she die? What could have possessed him to kill her?

He found himself afraid of what he might see next.

_Rumplestiltskin no longer ignored Belle. Whenever she was present his eyes frequently found her. He spoke with her during meals, complimented her on occasion and even took to seeking her out during the day. One time she was scrubbing the floors and singing and Rumplestiltskin hid so he could listen to every note._

_ Spring came slower than Belle expected, but she still took pleasure in the newly fallen snow. She didn't know that she was being watched as she hopped around in the white covered gardens, laughing and dancing amidst the swirls of snowflakes. She had a green and gold cloak now, costly and beautiful that brought out her lovely eyes. It couldn't be denied that Rumplestiltskin cared for his possessions, but it was doubtful he spent so much time admiring the others as he did her._

_ She did finally realize her audience and her already pink cheeks reddened a bit at being caught at her games. "Do you always spy on me?" she questioned boldly._

_ "I thought you a snow fairy," Rumplestiltskin said, "And I'm not overly fond of those pesky creatures."_

_ "Fairy's have wings," she reminded him._

_ "So they do," he agreed, his lips curled up in a smile. But when she twirled around, the cloak flapped out behind her and for moment she did have wings. _

_ Belle scooped up a handful of snow and toyed with it in her gloved hands. "You said Spring would be coming."_

_ "I did, but I don't control the weather."_

_ "Could you, if you wanted to?"_

_ "Yes."_

_ "Why don't you?"_

_ "Are you so desperate for Spring, dearie?" he asked her with teasing smile, "I suppose I could command the snow to melt, the gardens to seed and the sun to shine, but all of that will cost you something."_

_ "I have nothing more to give," she reminded him gently._

_ He looked at her for a long moment and then shook his head. "There is always something."_

_ Belle didn't dwell on his words. Instead she shrugged and said, "I'm quite happy with the snow. It offers me something Spring couldn't."_

_ "Oh? And what is that?"_

_ There was a wicked look to her smile as she said, "This." And then she hurled the snowball she'd been carefully crafting at him. He was so surprised that he didn't even attempt to dodge the missile. It struck him full in the face, peppering his hair and clothes with snow._

_ Belle laughed a great deal and pointed at him. It was a dangerous thing to do to toy with the Dark One, but she didn't seem to be aware of that fact. He blinked at her and then grinned his own dark smile. "Oh now, dearie, that was a terrible mistake."_

_ With a snap of his fingers, a hundred snowballs rolled out of the snow and hung in the air around him. Belle had a moment to understand her fate before he pointed them directly at her. The snowballs attacked her all at once, battering her with their cold wetness until she had no choice but to run and hide behind snow covered trees and bushes. But she laughed all the while._

_ "You're cheating!" she shouted before another snowball struck her in the face and she received a mouthful of it. _

_ "I never play fair, remember that, Belle."_

_ She kept running as more snowballs attacked her. She ran through the whole gardens, but he followed her with his continued assault. Finally she tripped and fell into the snow and managed to shout out between laughter, "I yield! I yield!"_

_ "A wise decision." And the snow war finally came to an end. Rumplestiltskin even did the unthinkable and offered her a hand out of the snow. "Now, did we learn to never make war with the Dark One?"_

_ "Yes," Belle agreed, but that wicked smile was back on her face, "And to always have a something up your sleeve."_

_ She smashed another hidden snowball into his face. While he was blinking it away, she made a mad dash for the castle where she was sure to find safety from his retaliation. At least for a little while._

"I don't understand," James said to the cup but his companions were the ones who heard him. "What are we looking at?"

"Something very rare," the Blue Fairy answered.

Damon didn't like the sound of that. He didn't like any of this at all. He hated seeing these images, seeing Belle alive again was bad enough, but there was joy in seeing her happy…and pain as well. How could she be happy with this monster? It was a question he feared the answer too.

Worst of all, he knew it was somehow tied to the question of why Belle's memory was bound to this cup. It must be soon coming. The knot in his stomach told him so.

_Now the waters showed Belle and Rumplestiltskin sitting close together on a table. They sat there in silence, with the imp starting down into the chipped cup and Belle actually looking sad. It looked like the memory had been cut, starting in the middle for a reason that wasn't explained._

_ "So you were a man once," she said, "An ordinary man."_

_ Rumplestiltskin said nothing in reply._

_ Belle gave him a tender look of patience. "If I'm never going to know another person in my whole life, can't I at least know you?"_

_ "Perhaps," he said, sliding off of the table and setting the cup aside, "Perhaps you just want to know the monster's weaknesses."_

_ He pointed one long finger at her, making teasing little sounds. Belle's blue eyes glared at him but her lips were curled up into a smile. "You're not a monster," she said. She meant it. "You think you're uglier than you are, that's why you cover all of the mirrors up, isn't it?"_

_ Then she slid off of the table and walked over to a tall mirror that was covered by a drape. "If you'll just look—."_

_ Her words ended in a gasp when Rumplestiltskin grabbed her from behind, pulling her close to him with his hands spanning her waist. "I do not fear my reflection," he whispered in her ear, "There are other reasons a mirror might be covered. I would protect you from them."_

_ "Protect," she whispered, but she lacked the breath to continue. She didn't look frightened as he held her so close, so very close. Her courage was to be commended…if that was the only reason._

_ "What happened?" she asked, "To your family."_

_ "What happened," he rasped out in a tone that was deep and husky, almost human sounding, "Is that I'm a difficult man to love."_

_ She didn't see Rumplestiltskin shut his eyes and breath in the scent of her. She didn't try to break away from his touch nor did she appear revolted by it. Quite the opposite in fact._

"I don't like this," Damon said. But his companions were too entranced to notice his words.

_ A loud knock interrupted their moment._

_ Rumplestiltskin left Belle by the still covered mirror and opened the front door with magic. Their visitor was none other than Gaston, dressed in his best and holding his sword aloft. "I am Sir Gaston," he said in a perfectly rehearsed tone, "And you, beast, have taken—."_

_ A snap of Rumplestiltskin's fingers and Gaston was gone in a puff of purple smoke. In his place was a perfectly formed, long stemmed red rose._

Damon shook his head at the image before, smiling a little to himself. "Damned fool."

_Belle was still waiting back in the trophy room. She turned around when she heard Rumplestiltskin reenter the room. "Who was that?"_

_ "Just an old woman selling flowers," he said and the produced the rose from behind his back, "Here," he said, "if you'll have it."_

_ Belle smiled at him with pure delight and happily accepted the rose. "Why thank you," she said and gave him a curtsy. He bowed to her in return while she laughed at their little game. She was so relaxed with him, it was entirely unexpected. Could it be…?_

_ "You had a life, Belle," the imp said, "Before this. Friends. Family. What made you choose to come here with me."_

_ Belle found a pair of scissors from a box and then went to the cabinet. "Heroism," she said as she found a little bronze vase, "Sacrifice. You know there aren't a lot of opportunities for women in this land to show what they can do, to see the world, to be heroes. So when you arrived, that was my chance."_

_ She set the vase down on the table and snipped the stem so it was shorter. "I always wanted to be brave. I figured, do the brave thing and bravery would follow."_

_ "And is it everything you hoped?"_

_ Belle smiled and set down the vase in the center of the table before sitting back down on it's surface. "Well I did want to see the world. That part didn't really work out," she reminded him gently, "But I did save my village."_

_ There was a mischievous grin on Rumplestiltskin's face as he asked with one eye on the newly made rose, "And what of your betrothed?"_

_ Belle rolled her eyes and shook her head. "It was an arranged marriage. Honestly, I never really cared much for Gaston." He smiled at that. "To me love is…love is layered. Love is a mystery to be uncovered. I could never truly give my heart to someone as superficial as he."_

_ Rumplestiltskin shook his head gently, never once taking his eyes off of her. But as their eyes met, his expression changed. He stared at her with a cold realization._

Damon knew that look. He'd seen it on himself many times before. Now he knew why something was gnawing away at his insides, why he wanted to turn that bowl over and see no more. Rumplestiltskin had fallen in love with Belle. And this was the moment he realized it.

_"I'll tell you what," he said softly, "I'll make you a deal. Go to town and fetch me some straw, when you return I'll share my tale."_

_ "Town?" she repeated and he nodded, "You trust me to come back."_

_ Rumplestiltskin shook his head. "Oh no, I expect I'll never see you again."_

James shook his head at the image. "He—he let her go. He released her from the deal. Why would he do that unless…?"

There was no need for him to finish.

_Once again, the memory had been cut because suddenly Belle had returned and they were both sitting at his wheel. She was so close to him, boldly close. No fear lingered, no disgust. She truly cared for him._

_ "And since then," she said, "You've loved no one and no one's loved you." She sounded sad at that truth._

_ Rumplestiltskin leaned towards her, his red and yellow eyes narrowed but absent any malice. "Why did you come back?" he asked, truly disbelieving what was right before his eyes._

_ "I wasn't going to," she admitted, "But then…something changed my mind."_

_ Her blue eyes shined with hope as she gently leaned towards him. Rumplestiltskin didn't breath at all and didn't shed his disbelieving look until her lips touched his._

James and the Blue Fairy both gasped. Damon felt his heart stop. He doubted it would ever start again. He watched as Belle drew away and opened her eyes. They saw Rumplestiltskin's face begin to change, losing it's odd skin and turning back into the pink flesh of a man.

And as it did, in those precious moments, Belle was happy. Happier than Damon had ever seen her before.

_"What's happening?" he asked as the change rippled through his face._

_ Belle took his face in both of her hands. "Kiss me again. It's working."_

_ "What is?"_

_ She smiled back at him with pure joy and…something else, something far more precious. "Any curse can be broken."_

_ And the spell shattered._

_ Rumplestiltskin flew out of his stool, his face returning back into it's usual pallor. This time he looked at her with pure rage. "Who told you that!" he shouted, "Who knows that!"_

_ Now Belle was afraid, for the first time since he'd healed her. "I-I don't know…she, uh, s-she…"_

_ Belle never said who it was, but he knew anyways. "She," he said absently and then whirled around. He stalked towards the mirror. "You evil soul!" he growled and then ripped the covering from the mirror, "This was you! You turned her against me! You think you can make me weak? You think you can defeat me?"_

_ "Who are you talking to?" Belle asked._

_ "The Queen!" he whirled back around to face her, "Your friend the Queen." He pointed one finger at her. "How did she get to you?"_

_ "The Queen?" Belle asked, "I don't…"_

_ His tone was so dark and cruel now in a way it never had been before with her. "I knew this was a trick. I knew you could never care for me."_

_ Belle shook her head, but it was in vain. "Oh yeah," he said, "You're working for her. Or is this all you? Is this being the hero and killing the beast?"_

_ "It was working," she reminded him._

_ "Shut up!" he shouted._

_ "This means it's true love."_

_ "Shut the hell up!"_

_ "Why won't you believe me?" she pleaded._

_ Rumplestiltskin grabbed her arms and shook her hard with every word he said. "Because no one, _no one,_ could ever, _ever_, love me!"_

Damon watched with a sick stomach as he took Belle by the arm and dragged her back down to the dungeon. He flung her inside without any care. She landed on her knees, but he only gave her one glance before he shut the door with a wave of his hand.

_The love of Rumplestiltskin was exactly as it was to be expected: destructive. He took a walking stick and smashed the glass of his cabinet. He found the tea set and threw two cups and the cream pitcher up against the wall. But when he got to the chipped cup, he stopped. He stared at it for a long while before setting it back down on the table, unharmed._

_ He returned to the dungeon this time with his rage cooled until he was practically a block of ice. It simmered beneath the surface still, but it could only be seen in his eyes. Belle still had the courage to look into them as she asked, "So, what are you going to do to me?"_

_ Rumplestiltskin pointed to the open door. "Go."_

_ He turned around to give her his back as she asked, "Go?"_

_ "I don't want you anymore, dearie."_

_ Belle stood up and straightened her skirts before heading for the door. She only got a step past the doorway when she turned around to stand before him again. She pointed one finger at his face. "You were freeing yourself," she reminded him, "You could have had happiness you you'd just believed that someone could want you! But you couldn't take the chance."_

_ "That's a lie," he hissed._

_ She shook her head and stepped towards him. "You're a coward, Rumplestiltskin, and no matter how thick you make your skin, that doesn't change."_

_ "I'm not a coward, dearie," he said coolly, "It's quite simple, really. My power means more to me than you."_

_ She shook her head again. "No," she said, "No it doesn't. You just don't think I can love you. Now you've made your choice. And you're going to regret it…forever."_

_ Tears brimmed in her blue eyes as she said, "All you'll have is an empty heart…and a chipped cup."_

_ Then she whirled around and left the dungeon and him behind. Rumplestiltskin lingered, shutting his eyes and taking in a shuddering breath as if he was in pain. He was._

"He didn't…he didn't hurt her," James said, "He let her live."

"Wait," the Blue Fairy said, "There is more."

She was right.

_The waters rippled as another memory formed. Rumplestiltskin stood at his wheel, spinning yet more straw into gold. He was dressed in his full dragon hide coat while a new tea tray was set on the table…set for two. Had he been waiting for her return?_

_ He looked up eagerly when the door opened, but glared back in disappointment when it proved to be a woman with raven hair and blood red lips. She was dressed elegantly in black with a large diamond necklace and other jewels glittering on her person._

"Regina," James said her name in a hiss.

So this was the queen Damon had heard so much about, the one Rumplestiltskin had hated.

_"Flimsy locks," she said with a laugh as she walked through the door. He turned back his wheel without a word. "I have a deal to discuss," she said as she went to the tray to pour herself a cup, "A certain mermaid._

_ "I'm not dealing today."_

_ "Are you angry with me?" she asked with a shrug, "What is it this time?"_

_ "Your little deception failed," he said, looking over his shoulder to glare at her, "You'll never be more powerful than me. You can keep trying, dearie, but you're never going to beat me."_

_ "Oh," she said in a mocking tone, "Is that about the girl I met on the road?" She smiled when she realized she was right. "What was her name? Margie? Verna?"_

_ "Belle," Rumplestiltskin said quietly._

_ "Right." Regina busied herself as she put sugar and milk in her tea. "Well you can rest assured, I had nothing to do with that tragedy."_

_ The wheel stopped. Rumplestiltskin turned around and slowly walked towards her. "What tragedy?"_

_ "You don't know?" He shook his head. "Well," she said with a gleeful surprise, "After she got home, her fiancé had gone missing. And after her stay here, her _association_ with you, no one would want her of course. Her father shunned her, cut her off, shut her out."_

_ "So she needs…a home?" he said, choking on his own hope._

_ Regina laughed wickedly at him. "He was cruel to her. He locked her in a tower and sent in clerics to cleanse her soul with scourges and flaying. After a while she threw herself off the tower." She smiled as she said, "She died."_

_ Rumplestiltskin stared at her in horror. "You're lying," he hissed._

_ "Am I?" she questioned._

_ He was shaking before her, his chest heaving with every breath. "We're done," he managed to say and then walked over to the door that opened at his command._

_ "Fine," she said with a roll of her dark eyes, "I have other calls to make."_

_ Regina chuckled as she trailed her fingers over the surface of the smooth wood, flicking away at imaginary dust. "The place is looking dusty, Rumple," she said. She smirked as she leaned towards him. "You should get a new girl."_

_ He kept his composure until she was gone. Then his body sagged away, drained of holding back his own emotions. He walked over to the cabinet and pulled the chipped cup from the shelf. A golden chalice sat on a pedestal, but it removed it, placing the cup there instead._

_ And then, only then, did he let himself weep._

The waters finally went dark and became clear liquid once again. James rocked back on his heels while releasing a long breath. "By the gods," he whispered.

"I didn't think it was possible," The Blue Fairy said, "I thought he'd lost his heart many years ago…she found it again."

"No," Damon said, shaking his head furiously, "This is a trick." He grabbed the damned cup, holding it aloft. "Those images…they weren't real. Belle…she could never…"

"She did," the fairy said gently, "I'm sorry, Sir Damon, but True Love is never one sided."

"The kiss was breaking his curse," James said.

"Yes. She loved him…and he loved her, he truly did."

Damon stared at the cup, his thumb brushing the chip. "No," he whispered, "No."

But it was in vain.

He remembered the look in Belle's eyes as she stared into the changing face of Rumplestiltskin. She had never looked at anyone like that before, not even him. It was the look of someone finally finding the one thing they had been looking for. She'd always wanted someone to love, someone who could see her for more than just her beauty. And she'd found him.

"What the Queen said," James spoke up again, "Is it true? Did her father really…?"

"I can't believe Maurice would do that to his daughter," Damon said.

"But if he'd thought she'd been corrupted by him, could he have given her over to be cleansed?"

Damon shook his head, but the hard truth was that he didn't know. Maurice had always had faith in the clerics but Belle…she'd never trusted them in their black robes and cold eyes. Out of the hope of saving his daughter from evil, maybe…just maybe…it was too horrible to be believed.

"I cannot sense her presence," The Blue Fairy said, "If she is alive…I couldn't say where she could be."

James bowed his head. "Then she really must be dead."

"He killed her," Damon hissed, "His love…it killed her."

"No," the Blue Fairy said, "Love does not kill. If what has been said is true, then it was fear and cruel men that destroyed that lovely girl. Rumplestiltskin is guilty of many things, but of this he is innocent."

"He doesn't think so," Damon pointed out.

She nodded once. "Yes, that may be true. And it is clear he regrets everything that happened to her."

She fluttered down until she hovered just beside the cup. "Poor child," she whispered, "She had no idea she was a pawn for Regina in her war with Rumplestiltskin. She only wanted to save him."

"And now she's dead," James said, "What was the point of it all?"

"Perhaps to prove that even in the darkest of hearts, there is a small spark of light." She smiled just a little. "He might yet be redeemed."

James shook his head at her. "I doubt it."

Damon didn't care about Rumplestiltskin's redemption or lack of one. Everything he'd worked for, his quest, his pain, had all been for nothing. Belle was dead. And she had loved someone else.

What more was there for him to do?

_OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo OoOoOoO_

James and Sir Damon rode back in silence. The young king tried to reach out to the knight but Damon had nothing more to say. He was lost inside everything he had learned and all of the pain it had caused. What good was love when it hurt like this? Why did so many seek it when all it caused was pain?

When they reached the castle's stables, James produced the cup from the pocket of his cloak. "I should bring this to him."

Damon finally spoke. "No, let me."

"Sir Damon—."

"Please, I have things I must say to him in private."

James relented with a nod. The porcelain cup was cool to the touch, perfectly painted and elegantly crafted. But it was the chip that had made it invaluable.

The prison was still dark save for the torchlight and the luster to the walls. Rumplestiltskin didn't make a grand entrance this time. When he heard Damon's footsteps, he merely stepped into the light and wrapped his long fingers around the bars.

"Just you? What happened to the little prince?"

"I wanted to speak with you alone."

Rumplestiltskin let out a giggle. "Well, you have that, Squire. Now what will you do with it?"

Damon didn't answer. He held the cup up so they both could see how the torchlight bathed it with yellow and orange, turning the blue paint into black and the gold edge into a river of fire. Rumplestiltskin didn't breath as he stared at his most valuable treasure.

He thrust his hand out from the bars. Damon placed the cup into his open palm. He brought it through the bars carefully and then cradled it in both of his hands. Rumplestiltskin stared down into the bowl for a lengthy moment. He had never looked more like a man to Sir Damon in that instant.

"I saw it," Damon said. Rumplestiltskin snapped his head up to look at him. "I saw everything."

"That wretched blue bug," he hissed, "She had no right to show you that. It was only meant for me."

"What is there to hide? She is gone," Damon said.

The imp narrowed his eyes at him. "I have my memories…and this," he held up the cup, "And I always protect the things that mean the most to me."

Damon nodded. Yes, he could understand that. He'd guarded every memory he had of Belle for fear of losing them forever. Some of them had faded with time since he had no magic like Rumplestiltskin and he mourned their loss.

"It is a precious thing," Damon whispered.

Rumplestiltskin tilted his head in thought. "What is your token?"

Damon hesitated to reveal it, but what was the point in hiding it now? The imp was in bars and Belle was gone. There was no harm in sharing his one secret anymore. He reached into his tunic and pulled out the bookmark. The threads were frayed and mingled into one dirty color. If he held it up to his nose, he could no longer smell her. But sometimes when he did, he could remember it.

He held it out enough so Rumplestiltskin could see what lay in his hand. "She left it in a book."

The corners of the imp's mouth curled up into a sad grin. "Yes, she dearly loved to read. She practically lived in my library."

Damon nodded, also smiling at the many fond memories he had of Belle with her books. She'd read to him at the brook, taught the children their letters and argued with her father's council with her books as her shield. One time he'd even found her asleep in the library and had the joy of carrying her to her room. He nearly asked if Rumplestiltskin had done the same, but the words died in his throat. Surely he had. Surely he had brushed the curls from her face as she slept, just like him. That knowledge left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Damon's hand fell to his sword. He could feel the pulse of the magic even at the hilt. The sweet song of metal rung against the stone walls as he released it from it's sheath. Rumplestiltskin showed no fear at the sight, but his gaze did flicker to the sword. "Lovely blade," he crooned.

"It is more than a sword," Damon said, "It was bound with magic, a magic that can kill you."

The Dark One grinned at him. "Can it now? Well, have at it, dearie. You've waited years for this moment, now here's your chance. I can't stop you from in here."

Damon glared at him. "You did kill her, Rumplestiltskin. Your love for her destroyed her."

His smiled died slowly. He gave him a wide-eyed stare before he nodded. "I know that."

"I could kill you even for that," Damon said. Every muscle in his body was taut. His mind screamed for him to strike, to take the one thing he'd dreamed about since Belle had breathed her last. But the memory of her sweet smile as she cradled this cursed man's face in her hands made him slip the enchanted sword back into it's sheath. "But I won't. She would never forgive me if I did."

Rumplestiltskin showed no relief. If anything, there was some regret in his gaze. Did a small part of him want to die?

"She loved you," Damon said.

"I know."

"Now you believe her? Now when it's too late?"

He bowed his head towards the cup in his hands. "That is my price."

The price to keep his power. Belle had paid for that with her life and Rumplestiltskin paid for it with the knowledge that he'd let his one chance for True Love slip through his fingers forever.

"How?" the imp asked silently.

"What?"

Rumplestiltskin looked up to his wondering gaze. "How could she ever love a thing like me?"

Damon thought about it for a moment, but the answer came to him rather quickly. He remembered the hideous tabby Sunflower, the terrible painting she'd hung in her room, the way she'd tended a scraggly, half-dead rose bush until it bloomed with new life. It was simple really, he should have realized it long ago.

"She always loved the things no one else could."

Yes, even Rumplestiltskin hated himself for what he was. Belle couldn't have helped but love him because of that. It was who she was. She was the light to his darkness, the other half to his empty heart.

Goodbyes were meant for friends and rivals, not hollow almost enemies. So Sir Damon turned to walk back to the end of the tunnel, but stopped when Rumplestiltskin called him by name.

He turned back around to look at the imp For once, he was completely serious. "When you see your lady again, watch over for her like you did before," Rumplestiltskin said, "Promise me that."

"I will," Damon said, then swallowed hard, "But she isn't my lady."

His gaze was fully centered on Rumplestiltskin as he finished the one final truth he had discovered. "She's yours."

_OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo OoOoOoO_

Sir Damon left the darkness of the dungeon and stepped out into the sunshine. It was Spring, Belle's favorite time of the year. The gardens of the castle were in full bloom with riots of colorful flowers. Vines of deep red roses curled down from the garden to cling to the wall that descended down towards the lake. She would have loved this place.

For a moment, he indulged himself in the fantasy that he'd never said no to her plea for escape all of those years ago. They had gone on those adventures together. She'd seen the Dwarf Mines, danced in the endless meadow of the fairies, sang with the mermaids at the Forbidden Sea. But the dream couldn't last. Not anymore.

There had been a dull hope before. She was gone, but he'd been left with the hope that if she had lived she could have loved him. Now he knew that would never have been. Those adventures would never be as sweet as he imagined. She could have done all of those things with him, but he still never would have gotten what he truly wanted. She had given it to Rumplestiltskin.

He took the sword out and stared at it's white blade. Revenge had fueled him for the past two years, and now he couldn't have it. He could kill Rumplestiltskin, but he couldn't kill the man Belle had loved.

Damon had promised Merlin to never let the blade belong to anyone else, even though he'd never used it. Perhaps the sorcerer had known this would happen. Perhaps that was why he reminded him that Rumplestiltskin was a man.

He flung the sword towards the lake. It gleamed in the sunlight, twirling in the air until it sank into the water pointed straight down. There was no splash. Instead the sword turned into water itself and became one with the lake.

Damon stared at the spot where it had once been. He didn't remember pulling out the threads, but suddenly they were in his hands. He wound the braid through his fingers, clinging to the memories that were his and yet so empty now. There was only one promise he had left to keep.

He never felt the threads slipping from his fingers.

_OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo OoOoOoO_

"Snow," James said gently to his wife, drawing her attention away from the cap she was making for their unborn child, "I want to offer Sir Damon a place in our court."

He'd told her everything about the poor knight, including how the woman he had loved had given her heart away to the Dark One. Snow had even shed a tear for the man when she heard of his pain. Now she smiled sweetly and nodded. "I think that's a marvelous idea. Do you think he'll accept?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted, "He has nothing else though. I'm hopeful this will give him a purpose."

There was a rap on the door. James bid them to enter and saw it was Sir Raphael, the head of his knights. "I'm sorry, your highness, for disturbing you and the queen but something has happened."

"What is it?"

Raphael walked towards James and whispered the problem into his ear. James felt his heart sink at the news, and yet he couldn't feel much surprised. It was just as he feared.

"Darling, what's wrong?" Snow asked. He hated to share with her such sad tidings.

"Sir Damon is dead."

Raphael led the young king and queen to the barracks where his men had the knight's body laid out on the table. James saw there was no cut into the man's tunic, no wound or bruise that could easily say was the cause of his demise. "How did he die?" Snow asked.

"We can find no cause," Raphael admitted, "We found him in the gardens, just like this."

"It was his will," James answered for him, "He no longer had the will to live."

Tears rolled down Snow White's fair face as she stood before the man. They hadn't known him well at all. Yet it was always a tragedy to lose such a knight.

"We will bury him with all of the honor he deserved," James vowed, "See that it is done."

"Yes, your highness."

Raphael has his knights bear the body away to be prepared for burial. James and Snow White walked away from the barracks in silence. He led and she followed blindly, though he wasn't even sure where he was going. They found themselves in the gardens where Sir Damon had been. It was such a peaceful place, he supposed it was a good spot for any man to die in.

Snow took her husband's hand, twining their fingers together. "What's wrong?"

James stared down into the waters of lake. "She chose wrong." Snow understood who he meant. "She had one man who loved her so dearly, who did everything for her and yet she chose the darkest creature in this world. She chose wrong."

"You think she had a choice?" Snow asked, "Charming, you and I know better than anyone that True Love is something that is found, not chosen. If she were here and you asked her if she would still love Rumplestiltskin, I think she would do nothing different."

"But Snow—."

She shook her head at him. "It may have been brief, but for a moment Belle had everything she ever wanted. I don't think anyone would give that up. She wouldn't."

James silently admitted that she was right. Sir Damon had told him all about the Lady Belle. Snow would have liked her a great deal as they were similar creatures. She had been brave and strong like Snow, willing to face the darkest of powers in order to find something so precious. She had dared to find True Love and succeeded, even if the cost had been her life.

"It's a shame," James said.

Snow White nodded. "Yes, but perhaps that was her destiny. Sir Damon never needed her love. He was always a good man with a good heart. Her love found something in Rumplestiltskin, a small spark of light."

"But she died," James reminded her. "It seems like such a waste."

She reached up to gently touch his cheek with her fingers. "He still loves her, Charming. That is never a waste."

He could find no argument against her words. She always had a way of forcing him to realize such hard truths. So James just pulled her closer to bury his face into her hair. Together they mourned the loss of one knight. He had no one else but them.

_Storybrooke, Maine_

_Twenty-Eight Years After the Dark Curse_

Father Merdock delivered his final words and all of the residents of Storybrooke watched as Sheriff Graham's coffin was lowered into the earth. Gold felt a small pang of remorse. Oh he'd cared very little about the man, in both worlds, but he had been a good person. There was always some grief at such a loss.

Regina was cold in her loss, but little Henry openly cried. She put a hand on her adopted son's shoulder, but Gold couldn't see any comfort in that. The young boy looked across the way at Emma Swan instead. She also had tears rolling down her cheeks.

The grieving was too much for him to stomach now. He doubted that anyone was surprised when he was the first person to turn away from the scene. The sheriff was dead, nothing could change that. He knew the finality of death more than anyone. Immortality had a way of showing how brief a normal life truly was, sometimes how pointless it all could be. And yet…some short lives could mean everything.

Belle's life had been cut short, and yet he could never view her as worthless. He had lived for centuries, and yet she had accomplished so much more than he had. How she'd found the way to his heart, he will never know. That was her secret and she'd taken it to the grave.

Gold's car was parked at the end of the cemetery, but he stopped halfway to his destination. There was something else he had to do. He had only a shred of honor in him perhaps, but it would have to be enough.

He walked the lines of tombstones. Most names he couldn't recognize. Some he remembered as lives from other worlds. There was the stone for Prince Charming's mother and father. There was King Leopold and his queen. Another stood over Morraine, a friend of his lost son. He didn't linger there long because the memories were too potent.

After he had awoken, he had visited the cemetery to find Belle's grave. He had read every stone and monument, but none was hers. Her despicable father would pay for that one day, Gold had vowed. His Belle had deserved a magnificent tomb in her honor. One day he would do that for her.

The grave he stopped at was just a simple grey headstone. The name it bore was Caleb Knightly, a good name. But it was the inscription that had told Gold who he really was.

_Silence in love bewrays more woe_

_Than words, though ne'er so witty_

Sir Damon had certainly found woe in his silent love.

"We meet again," Gold said to the cold slab of stone, "though I suppose I will do most of the talking this time.

"Yes, I knew when we last spoke that your end was near. You couldn't live in a world without her. I wouldn't mind such an end myself, except I have another purpose that I must fulfill. I never meant to sacrifice her for that," he spoke sadly, "I never meant for anything that happened with her."

The stone reflected the knight rather well. No doubt he would be giving him a stony silence as he listened to what he had to say.

"I know you are keeping your promise," Gold said, "You were always loyal to her, I'll never begrudge you that." A small smile curved his lips. "But you remember, she is mine. You said so yourself."

Gold kept one hand on his cane while the other reached into the pocket of his jacket. "But this is yours."

It was the braid of ragged threads Belle had once used a bookmark that the knight had turned into a token. A small bit of magic had brought the threads to him when the knight had breathed his last. They would have been discarded otherwise. This was his own vow he had had made.

Gold ignored the pain in his leg as he knelt down at the grave. He grabbed handful of grass and dug into the earth. Once he hole was deep enough, he lay the threads there and heaped the dirt back over them.

He put on hand on the stone, reading the lines of the poem again. "Sometimes I wish she had loved you. If she had, she would still be alive. I know you hated me for that and I don't begrudge you. There is some comfort in knowing she returned my love."

He looked out across the cemetery and saw more mourners leaving. One of them was Moe French, sidling up to the white van full of flowers. The man who had let his daughter to die now had no memory of her life at all. Gold loathed him for that.

"I promise you, her death will be avenged," Gold said.

He looked back at the granite, wondering if those words would comfort the knight. He doubted it, but it did give him some solace. "Continue to keep your promise," Gold said, "watch over her. Keep her company wherever she is. And let her know that I love her. I will always love her."

He stood up with a slight grimace from his weak leg, but said no more. Sir Damon may not have had Belle's love, but at least he was with her now. Gold imagined the knight took some comfort in that, wherever he was. But Belle was still his, even in death. The knight would care for her though, just as he had promised.

He was a good and faithful knight.

* * *

A/N: The epitaph on Damon's tombstone is two lines from from "The Silent Lover" by Sir Walter Raleigh. I thought it was appropriate.

I hope everyone really enjoyed this one. I tried to model it after famous chivalry stories like Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, hence why it turned out so long. I'm glad I finally finished it. Now I can get back to my other stories without any guilt. Please tell me what you think.


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